The Ballad of Sam and Freddie: Requiem
by eleanorr1gby
Summary: Five years have passed, and some things are gone but not forgotten. Lines will be drawn, and then broken. Sometimes it's not just about love. Sometimes it's about who you love more...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Whoa there! I can't believe I have the first chapter already! :D Okay, this story is coming with a MAJOR warning label. Under fourteen years old = big no no! That means that it's going to surpass the first two ballads in terms of drama and adult themes. Major disclaimer for sex, violence, drugs, infidelity, and pure mayhem. It's going to push the characters further than they've ever been pushed before. And I'm going to go ahead and put it out there: somebody WILL cheat! I'm not saying who, but if you have an issue with it, please don't read it. **

**Just hang on for the ride people. You may not like the direction it always takes, but just keep in mind I'm not out to give you a fluffy bunny love fest, my intention is to give you folks one hell of a ride.**

**I hope you laugh. I hope you get teary-eyed. I hope you get angry at the characters, and maybe even angry at me. I hope you wait with baited breath for each and every update. Above all, I really hope you enjoy it.**

**- Eleanor Rigby**

**The Ballad of Sam and Freddie: Requiem**

**Chapter One**

~*Carly*~

The plush meeting room of United Artists Management was filled with people wearing the same perplexed expression, none of us sure what to say. I glanced up at my manager trying to prompt her to say something, but Morgan just shook her head at me, shrugging a little.

I spoke up first, a little hesitantly.

"Broadway, James?" I asked, my eyebrows going up a little.

James Diamond glanced at me, tossing his head slightly to the side to clear his perfectly coiffed brown hair out of his eyes, and gave me a shrug.

"Well, yeah. It's something I've been wanting to do for awhile, and I mean...do you think I'm not cut out for it, Carly?" His big brown eyes looked like they were just on the edge of being wounded.

That was James Diamond of Big Time Rush. Chronically vain and self-centered, but in the purest, most innocent way possible, similar to a child filled with big dreams that depended on other people's validation to keep them intact. As full of himself as he was, he literally didn't have a mean bone in his entire body. James was a sweetheart, and I knew that his sudden decision to take a Broadway gig without telling any of us wasn't based on malice. It was just in James' nature, flighty and impulsive.

I shook my head, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Of course not. You'd be great at it, but...I mean, you guys did just finish your album..." I said. "You have to tour to promote it."

"But we're still waiting on you to finish yours," James replied. "Big Time Rush just DOESN'T tour without Carly Shay." He glanced around to his bandmates for confirmation, the three of them reluctantly nodding in unison.

"You have a point, but I mean, what if she gets a burst of inspiration all of a sudden and wraps the album in a month?" Logan shot back. "You'll be locked into a Broadway contract, and we'll be sitting here on our hands for a year."

"It's not for a year, it's for six months, and Carly's not going to wrap her album in a month!" James shot back, then his face scrunched up as he realized what he said. "Sorry," he offered to me. "I didn't mean it like that, Carlotta..." He used the nickname the boys had given me all those years ago, trying to make up for his faux pas.

I held a hand up.

"It's fine."

It wasn't exactly a big secret in our circle that I was ridiculously behind with writing and recording my third album. My creative drive had completely fallen flat. I'd only gotten about three songs done and ready to be mixed, and they were mediocre at best, just filler content, possibly even b-sides.

Kendall sent me a sympathetic look. Kendall knew better than anyone how hard I was trying to work on wrapping my album, only to constantly be coming up empty handed. He was always on the receiving end of my late night rants over the phone, performance anxiety right before a big meeting with the label heads, panicky texts in the middle of recording sessions.

"I'm sure you'll get it done soon," he said. I just snorted inelegantly, slumping down in my seat a little.

Perhaps I should backtrack a little.

Four years ago, I was just an up and coming pop singer, newly married and crossing my fingers that my first single would go well and that I didn't make a fool of myself. I was still figuring out how to be a wife, adjusting to Los Angeles, and preparing to embark on my first tour as the opening act for Big Time Rush, worrying how my new husband Brad was going to handle me living with four guys on the road for an entire summer.

Well, the tour was a smashing success, my first single went platinum within five months, and I got upgraded from a mere opening act to co-headliner with arguably one of the most popular bands on the planet. The tour went well, and so we did another one. And then a third one. Even though my album wasn't even halfway done, negotiations and pre-production had already begun on the fourth Big Time Rush/Carly Shay tour.

Until now.

Kendall, Logan, Carlos, myself, and both of our management teams had been absolutely flabbergasted when James had announced that not only was he interested in doing a Broadway gig, but he'd already auditioned and signed the contract. It was official, James Diamond would be headlining his first show as Conrad Birdie in Bye, Bye Birdie in a mere month. I could tell the boys were feeling a little betrayed, and I supposed in a way, I was too.

See, after all that touring together, the boys of Big Time Rush had become my best friends. We were constantly working together, on and off tour. We were constantly being co-booked for appearances, talk shows, award show performances, phoot shoots and advertising campaigns. The media as well as our fanbases had sort of embraced the idea of Big Time Rush and Carly Shay being a package deal. Everybody loved it.

Brad had eventually gotten used to it, but in the beginning I had genuinely thought we were going to split up over it. He hated the idea of me spending so much time with the guys, but as time wore on, Brad became more accustomed to it, and it's not like he really had that much time to dwell on it anyway.

See, Brad was a celebrity in his own right. People constantly referred to him as the next Tarantino, due to his penchant for dramatics, language, and violence on screen. Brad put his name on a project and it was gold, guaranteed. He'd sold countless screenplays, directed four of his own films, and was in the auditioning stages of his fifth film. I'd actually lost track of how many successful projects he'd had...maybe ten or so? Yes, Brad had certainly made a name for himself, and the two of us were the entertainment business' Golden Couple. I knew he'd be pleased at the idea of the tour being pushed off, it would keep me in Los Angeles for awhile, and that would keep him happy.

"I can't believe you're jumping ship," Carlos said accusingly, glaring at James.

"I'm not jumping ship! I'm just...taking an alternate position. From deckhand to...something else." Analogies weren't James' strong suit.

"Well, as the CAPTAIN of said ship, I didn't authorize you to take any alternate position!" Gustavo, the band's manager, spoke up.

"Wait, we have a ship?" Carlos asked.

"Alright, enough!" my manager Morgan spoke up. "The contract's signed. What's done is done. If anything, this will give Carly ample time to get her album finished, and give production time to cook up an AMAZING tour. It has to top EVERYTHING we've ever done."

No pressure or anything. I made a face at Kendall, who made the same face back at me.

Kendall was definitely my closest friend out of everyone. In a way, he reminded me of Brad. They had similar temperaments, except Kendall lacked Brad's more neurotic traits and had a lot more energy than my caffeine-swilling husband. They even sort of looked similar, the same dark blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Of course, I would never tell Brad that.

In the beginning, Brad hadn't wanted to go anywhere near the boys of Big Time Rush, but if he wanted to spend any time with me he really didn't have a choice. Things slowly got better the more time he spent around them; he eventually grew to like them. Logan and Brad were practically best friends, and when we were all in the same city they hung out together a LOT. James had done a few bit parts in some of Brad's films, and Carlos regularly tagged along on paintball adventures with Brad, Logan, and our old friend Gibby. The only person Brad didn't care for was Kendall, and I never could figure out why. For some reason, the two avoided each other like the plague.

"We're gonna have to come back to this at next week's meeting," Morgan said as she glanced down at her phone. "We have exactly twenty minutes to get you down to Teen Scene magazine for the photo shoot and interview, and traffic is piling up. Let's move, people."

I slowly rose to my feet, yawning, and turned to my assistant.

"Lindsay, what are the chances you could get me a GIANT coffee before I get downstairs and into the limo?"

Lindsay looked a little pale at that prospect. "Um..."

"Ooh, I want one too!"

"And me!"

"Make that three!"

Uh-oh, boy band coffee orders were piling up. Kendall stepped in front of his bandmates, his arms spread wide.

"You guys, chill. We'll make the driver pit stop at the Coffee Bean."

"But we're already late," Logan pointed out.

"So? What are they gonna do, start the interview without us?" Kendall quipped, then turned back to my assistant. "Run. Get out while you're still alive."

Lindsay looked to me silently, as if to ask for permission, and I shrugged.

"Just go, we'll see you at Teen Scene," I laughed. "Now get outta here before James makes you gel his hair or something."

"I use mousse, Carly!"

I just laughed again. "Come on, pretty boy, let's move." I walked around behind James and began pushing him out the door. Our entire team migrated to the direction of the elevator, and Morgan, Gustavo, Gustavo's assistant Kelly, Logan, James, and Carlos all crammed into the elevator.

"You guys, they're elevators, not trains. The next one usually shows up pretty fast," Kendall said with a shake of his head. "We'll catch the next one."

"Fine, but no dawdling," Gustavo said, pointing a meaty finger at us threateningly. The doors closed, leaving Kendall and I alone in the hallway.

Kendall looked down at his watch.

"And five, four, three, two..."

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed in a panicky, shrill voice. "Do you realize that James going all Broadway has fully put me on a deadline?!"

"I don't think he did that, exactly..."

"Six months to deliver a flawless audio masterpiece, fit for a tour of epic proportions!" I responded. "Kendall, I'm so screwed! My creative drive is totally flat!"

"Carly, give yourself a break, okay?" Kendall replied. "I mean, we've been really busy with wrap-up from the last tour, and it's not like you're even at home enough to get any...inspiration, if you know what I mean."

I reddened a little. He had a point. Brad and I were both so busy, not only with our careers, but with dealing with Bryson, Leah, and Katie (Heather happily stationed in the UCLA dorms) that we barely had 'alone time' together.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You're one to talk. When's the last time you got any 'inspiration', huh?"

Kendall just shrugged. "Quality's hard to come by these days." He pressed the down button on the elevator. "Look, if you want, I can help you."

I gave him a Look, my hands on my hips.

"I'm good with the inspiration I get at home, Kendall."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, number one, you wish. And two, I was talking about the MUSIC, Carlotta!"

Oh, that made more sense! My eyes lit up.

"Really?" I asked hopefully.

"Remember when I told you I wanted to try my hand at producing?"

"And you want me to be your test dummy?" I asked incredulously. "I don't know, Kendall..."

"Oh, come on!" his voice came out in a beg as we stepped onto the elevator. "We can't release anything without label permission, and you know they won't let us put out crap! And I mean, the fans, the media, everybody...they'd all eat it up."

"Brad would have a shit fit," I pointed out. "Late night recording sessions, alone, in a darkened studio with you?"

"He's just threatened by me," Kendall harrumphed. "Can't say that I blame him, I am pretty awesome..."

"Kendall!" I warned.

"...but if he wants to stand in the way of you putting out a good album, then he doesn't deserve you anyway, Carly!" Kendall replied. "We'll get Logan to chaperone or something if he has that big of an issue with it."

I looked dubious, and Kendall grabbed my arm, shaking it.

"Come on, one song, and if you don't like my work, you can fly in some songwriting genius from Scandinavia or something."

I raised an eyebrow. "Scandinavia?"

"Yeah, it worked for Britney and NSYNC."

"Dude, do you realize that we ARE Britney and NSYNC now?" I asked.

"Yeah, something like that."

"So shouldn't our expiration date be coming soon?" I asked worriedly. It wasn't the first time I'd thought about it. Pop stars usually had a shelf life of about five years before they started becoming played out, and we were

quickly approaching that time limit.

Kendall nodded. "Which is why we're all under major pressure to come back bigger and better than ever this time. Maybe James' little side gig will give everyone enough time to reevaluate. And for you to put together a killer album."

"If you think I've got it in me," I sighed. The elevator doors slid open and we walked through the lobby.

"I know you've got it in you," Kendall replied as we walked through the revolving glass door and onto the sidewalk, rolling our eyes as we caught sight of James and Logan playing monkey in the middle with Carlos's hat. "I mean, come on, you're Carly freaking Shay. You're pop royalty."

"If you say so," I responded, then gave him a quick hug. "Thanks, Kendall."

He hugged me back. "No sweat, Carlotta."

SNAP! We were both caught off-guard by the flashbulb of an unexpected papparazzi member less than two feet away from us. He ran off before either one of us could yell at him, screaming, "I got it! I got it!"

"Jesus," Kendall grunted, shaking his head. "Hey, at least we've got that telethon thing in D.C. next week and all that promotional stuff. There's no paparazzi in D.C."

I sighed, pulling my phone out. I wasn't thinking about the pending D.C. trip, I was thinking about that photo that had just gotten snapped winding up on the internet, where everybody, including my husband, would see. "I'd better warn Brad."

~*Freddie*~

"You have GOT to be kidding me," I grumbled as I stood in the driveway of my house, staring at the scene in front of me.

Sam shrugged as she carefully studied her now damaged automobile. The smashed out headlights and windows, slashed tires. There was probably sugar in the gas tank too.

"You know, I was saying the other day how I wanted to buy a new car," she suggested as she walked around the side. "What the...son of a bitch!" She glared at the key marks across the door. The handwriting was scrawling and uneven, but the simple, two word message was clear:

'QUIT BITCH'

I glared at Sam, shaking my head at how nonchalant she was being about the whole thing. "You promised me you were going to recuse yourself from this case."

"No I didn't," she replied lightly. "You ordered me to recuse myself, but I decided not to. I don't take orders, remember? Not from you or anyone else."

"How could I forget?" I snapped. I sighed, then shook my head. "Sam..." I said, my voice rising up a decibel in warning. "We are not talking about you going up against some homeless crackhead, or even a skeezy club owner. This is Guiseppe DeCicco."

Sam laughed. "Like you're some big scholar on California crime syndicates all of a sudden?" She rolled her eyes. "DeCicco doesn't scare me. He's a bully. Bullies need to be taken down a notch."

I heard the front door to our house slam shut, and I sighed as I heard the rhythmic soft thudding of bookbags against little backs as they raced across the front lawn.

"Whoa," Buddy skidded to a halt right behind me. "What happened to the car?"

I looked down at my six year old mini me and shook my head. The kids did NOT need to see their mother's destroyed automobile, or the fight between Sam and I that was sure to follow. "Buddy, can you take your sister back inside for a second?"

He sighed. "Yeah," he turned around, grabbing his sister's wrist. "C'mon Sadie..."

"What happened to Mommy's car?" Four year old Sadie asked worriedly.

"Raccoons," Sam responded tersely. "Now go back inside for a minute."

"There's no raccoons here," Buddy responded matter-of-factly. "The North American raccoon's habitat is mainly in..."

"BUDDY." Sam and I both said in clipped tones, causing our son to pull up his shoulders, looking like a tiny turtle.

"Okay, okay..."

Buddy and Sadie retreated inside, leaving me and Sam standing in the driveway staring at one another.

I shook my head. "They're getting to be more like you every day, do you know that?"

"Not such a bad thing," Sam responded with a shrug. I just rolled my eyes.

"Look, Sam, I DON'T want you taking this case, alright? Climbing up the ladder is NOT worth all of this! They know where we live, alright? This is not okay anymore!"

Sam glared at me. "First of all, I am going to make head DA before I turn thirty, and nothing is going to stop me. Secondly, if you think this is only about me getting ahead at work, then you don't know me as well as you think you do, Freddie!"

My angry expression softened a bit.

Ever since Sam had finished law school and passed the BAR exam, she had developed a tendency to represent sexual assault victims, many of them posthumously. While I understood that it came from a deep set desire for vindication of her and her twin sister – and the various instances of childhood abuse they'd suffered – Sam was taking more and more dangerous cases. Nothing seemed to frighten her anymore, and that worried me to the core.

Her latest case had been the most dangerous yet – lead prosecutor in the Guiseppe DeCicco case. DeCicco was a rumored underboss of a certain Italian crime syndicate that had set up shop about twenty years back in San Francisco, and he was not to be crossed. He was currently on trial for the rape and murder of a cocktail waitress. Sam had literally jumped at the opportunity to go against this bastard, and she fought hard for the lead prosecutor role, but I couldn't help but wonder if she'd only got it because everyone else was too afraid to take it.

Sam wasn't a stranger to receiving threats over her cases, or having damage done to her car in the parking garage at work – we'd been through three new cars in the last two years – but this was different. This was our home, and we lived in the suburbs, not the city limits. Someone had gone through some trouble to find out where we lived. We had two young children to protect. This was scaring me, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why it wasn't scaring Sam.

Of course, these days, we may as well have been strangers. Sam had dove headfirst into her career immediately after finishing law school (which she pulled off in record time) and worked long hours. Heading into the office early, staying at the office late, and spending long hours in our upstairs library poring over case files while I laid in our bed pounding away at lines of code on my laptop.

I'll be honest, I worked a lot too. Being a systems analyst was not easy work, but it was profitable. Between the two of us and all our overworking, we made a really good living. We had the best of everything. Our kids went to one of the best private schools in the city, were loaded down with extracurricular activities, and wanted for nothing. But there was a huge disconnect in mine and Sam's relationship, something that had been looming for awhile, and the blame lay entirely with us this time. No outside parties interfering. No overwhelming jealousy. I actually longed for the days when Sam showed jealousy. At least then I knew for a fact that she cared. Hell, I missed getting jealous, for the same reason. I wasn't sure when we'd gone from lovers, husband and wife, to mere roommates.

I tried to come back to the situation at hand.

"Sweetheart, I know you want to take every case you can, take on every rapist dirtbag out there, but you can't!"

Sam shook her head. "You don't get it, alright? Guys like DeCicco think they can do whatever they want and they'll get away with it. That people...women...are disposable, and they can just wipe them off the face of the earth and get away with it."

"That's because they do it every day!" I replied.

She shook her head again, more determined. "Not this time. This is...this is an example, Freddie. I am setting an example for all the other high-powered assholes out there. The wiseguys, the politicians, the CEOs. That when you mess with women, especially young women, when you completely destroy innocence, there are consequences. That they will be held responsible. DeCicco is NOT getting off. If you saw the case files, the photos, of that poor girl..." she trailed off. "He's not getting away with it."

"It's not worth getting hurt over!" I yelled. "Or the kids!"

"The kids are NOT going to get hurt, okay?" Sam snapped. "He's just getting his lackeys to try and scare me off. And it's not going to work. Besides, if he sees me as a threat, then good. It means I'm doing something right."

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out a sigh. "Always gotta be right, don't you? Never back down?"

"That's why I'm so damn good at my job," she replied tersely. "Now, are you gonna drop me off at the office, or are you going to make a big fuss? Obviously I can't drive this."

"What choice do I have?" I shot back.

"You're so supportive of my career," Sam grumbled sarcastically as she walked past me into the house.

"And you're so supportive of our marriage," I shot back. Sam stopped in her tracks, turning around to face me.

"Don't play that card with me. You started the workaholic game way before I did. Don't be bitter just because you're not the MVP anymore."

With that, she turned back around, heading back into the house and leaving me standing alone in the driveway.

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

The damn business trip to D.C. next week couldn't come soon enough...

~*Brad*~

"I don't like that one," I stated, wrinkling my nose at the sketch in front of me.

"What's wrong with it?" Melanie exclaimed, snatching her sketchbook out of my hands. "I used the colors you suggested, the lines are clean, it's perfect, Brad!"

I shook my head. "Tell me the last time you saw that particular cut of jacket on an 19th century upper class gentleman, Mel. It's a walking anachronism!"

Melanie huffed. "I thought it being all steam-punky would give me more lee-way."

"Alternative history doesn't mean you can just ignore history all together," I responded. I turned a page and my eyebrows went up, impressed. "Now THIS is a suit jacket. This should be the basis for the rest of the designs."

She let out a nod. "Okay, I'll just...start over from scratch. When do I need these in by again?"

"Two weeks," I responded, leaning back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling fan. "I'm exhausted."

"You'd think you would've taken a little break before taking on a project of this size, but no no, not you," Melanie responded with a roll of her eyes.

I just grunted; Mel was right. Sometimes I felt like I pushed myself a little too hard, but at the end of the day, it was worth it. I'd pushed out nine different projects in the last five years, which was considered an impossible feat for directors, but no matter how successful I was, I still felt like I had something to prove. My current project was by far my most ambitious, an epic steampunk-slash-time traveling drama with a major studio backing it...and a huge amount of funds.

I had access to some of the biggest and best people to work with at my disposal, but over the years I'd grown accustomed to working with certain people, and I couldn't imagine such a huge undertaking without them. One of those people was Melanie Puckett.

I'd known Melanie since we were sixteen years old, and in the beginning we absolutely despised each other, now she was one of my closest friends. To be fair, most of the time we still irritated the shit out of each other, but at least we respected each other now. Melanie was an extremely talented designer, from her runway ready lines to her more complicated costume ideas I'd enlisted her to design for my films.

It had taken about three months into my first film project for me to stop seeing her twin sister Sam every time I looked at Melanie. Six more months of reminding myself that I married Sam's best friend Carly, who was still my wife, and incidentally one of the biggest pop stars in the world right now.

Of course, Sam and Carly weren't best friends any more. They didn't even speak, and for that matter, neither did Sam and I. And as for Freddie, Sam's husband and my former best friend, well, we didn't talk either. It wasn't one thing that did it. Not the extremely inappropriate relationship between Sam and I that almost led to an affair. Not the one passionate kiss we'd shared before we decided we needed to put distance between us. Not Sam's declaration that she was with FREDDIE, not me, that they had a family together and she wouldn't risk that. We'd just grown apart.

Sam and Freddie lived in San Francisco now, and they had two children. Of course Sam still kept in touch with Mel, and from what I'd heard, she was a pretty prominent lawyer in the bay area. Freddie worked for a software company, like all of us knew he would. Just your average upper middle class family that lived in the suburbs, a normal life. Nothing like mine and Carly's lives, which were filled with tours, premieres, award shows, and everything else that went along with being famous. That was the main reason the four of us had grown apart. We literally had nothing in common anymore.

It was sad, really. At one point, the four of us had this codependent bond that bordered on outright unhealthy. The brushes with infidelity that ran rampant with me and Sam, Carly and Freddie's slightly more stealthy but still apparent attraction, the constant meddling in each other's relationships. All of it just slowly faded away. Sam stopped talking to me, focusing on her career and her children. Freddie replaced me with a cadre of computer nerds, and my closest friends were now Melanie, my occasional writing parter Lucas, my old friend Gibby, and Carly's tourmate Logan Mitchell. Carly had gotten so wrapped up in her career that the only people she interacted with were the guys from Big Time Rush and her management team. Things just weren't the same.

I'll be honest, I still thought about Sam. A lot, actually. It wasn't difficult when her doppelganger was constantly at my side. And I thought about Freddie too. I based a lot of my characters off Freddie, particularly the more moralistic ones, the good guys. I wasn't sure what Carly thought, we never spoke of them. Like they had died or something.

Carly and I tried to make our marriage work as best as we could, but it wasn't easy with our careers. We were rarely even in the same city unless it was awards season. If she was in LA, I was off at a film festival in Paris or London. If I was back home, Carly was in Hong Kong or Taipei, touring with Big Time Rush. If I was hunched over a screenplay or going over costume samples with Melanie, Carly was holed up in the studio or running around with Kendall Knight. Consequently, with schedules like that, Carly and I logged a LOT of hours on Skype.

And then to top it off, my four siblings kept me busy as well. Heather was twenty now, and in her sophomore year of college, studying to be a psychologist. I'd been extremely proud of the way she'd turned out. At first I'd been really nervous, because Heather had always been a real wild child, but the move to Los Angeles had actually been good for her. She escaped her past, found herself again.

Bryson was fifteen, and still a prolific artist. He'd had a few exhibits here and there, and was happily attending an art school here in Los Angeles, where he'd finally found his place too. I was actually kind of jealous. When I was his age I was pretending to be something I wasn't and my little brother had always let his freak flag fly high. He was pretty popular with the ladies too, but that was just a Harrison thing, if you ask me.

Then there was Leah and Katie. Eight and five, the littlest Harrisons ate, slept, and breathed ballet. Both of them had been doing it since they were three, and though we still weren't sure about Katie, Leah showed real promise as a ballerina. If she played her cards right, she'd be in a professional company by the time she turned sixteen. Raising the four of them hadn't turned out to be as hard as I'd expected after the move to Los Angeles, but we'd had a lot of help too. We could afford nannies and tutors and au pairs. Honestly, if we hadn't, Carly and I would have absolutely no time at all together!

I pursed my lips together as I continued to peruse Mel's designs for the new film, my eyes lifting to my office door when I heard it creak open.

"Brad, the studio heads are here to see you," my assistant Kayla told me.

"Cool," I said with a nod. "Send them in."

"Okay," she responded. "Anything else?"

I sighed, resting my head in my hands for a second, my elbows propped on my legs.

"Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee," I responded.

Kayla nodded, but she had a suspicious look on her face.

"Brad, when's the last time you slept?"

I looked up at her, shaking my head. "I don't remember. Why?"

"Not good, boss man," she replied.

"Kayla," I responded, giving her a Look. "Coffee. Please?"

"Make that two," Melanie called.

"Okay, I'm sending the studio heads in, two minutes," Kayla responded.

I nodded, forcing myself to my feet. "Thanks Kayla."

"No problem," she responded sweetly. I waited until she'd shut the door behind her, then whirled around to face Melanie.

"Where'd you put it?" I asked as I began rifling through my desk drawer.

"I told you you're cut off, Brad," Mel responded as she raised an eyebrow.

"Melanie," I warned. "Cut me some slack."

"I've been cutting you slack all month, asshole!" Melanie responded. "You are pushing yourself too hard! You're working too hard, you're not sleeping, and you're using this shit to stay up for DAYS now, not hours! That's not okay, Brad!"

"You act like I'm hooked or something, and I'm not," I shot back. "You know that. But I'm like ten minutes away from another hardcore crash, and I do NOT have time to sleep for twelve hours this week! I have meetings out the wazoo, auditions, and I have to spend time with Carly before she goes to DC."

Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. "I flushed it."

"WHAT?!" I shouted. I glared at her. "Are you freaking kidding me, Mel?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Harrison," Mel replied. "Did you forget our deal?"

"No, I did not forget the deal, but this is serious shit, Melanie! Everything is riding on this movie, do you hear me? Everything!"

"We said we'd chill out on the powder."

"One line is not going to hurt me, Melanie!" I growled.

"It's never just one line with you though, B!" Melanie replied. "And you've gotten worse over the last month."

"I'm just stressed, okay?" I responded. "Why are you being like this?"

Melanie walked over and thumped me between the eyes, and I just leered at her, not speaking. She ignored the death glare I was giving her.

"Because I care about you, idiot. And I made a promise to take care of you."

"I'm giving you permission to break the promise, Melanie," I shot back. "Stop flushing my shit!"

"I didn't make the promise to you," she replied cryptically, and I stared at her, confused. "Nevermind," she sighed, and then grabbed her purse, rifling through it. "Here." She handed me a pill. "Adderall. My personal stash."

I breathed a sigh of relief as I tossed the pill into my mouth, chewing it and ignoring the bitter taste I'd grown accustomed to over the years.

I honestly and truly did not have a problem, at least not one that required serious treatment. I worked long, uneven hours, sleeping maybe every two days or so and then crashing for twelve hour stretches. Melanie was the same way. We worked ourselves to the bone, and it didn't take very long in Hollywood to figure out a few tricks to keep yourself going. We kept each other in check pretty well though, covering each other's asses when need be, cutting each other off if it was necessary, even if it erupted in a fight like just now.

"I fucking love you, you know that?" I told her as I gulped down water to wake myself up more. Melanie didn't respond, just glowered at me, the same way she always did whenever I said that. Maybe it was just because she was sensitive to the whole concept of love, in some ways it would always be a little foreign to her. She knew I only meant it in a friends-type way though. As important as Melanie Puckett was to me, I could never have those type of feelings for her, even if at one point I'd had them for her twin sister.

Melanie rolled her eyes. "You know, Carly has enough money to have me offed if she found out I was supplying you with a steady stream of uppers, and she'd get away with it."

"Not if your sister was the prosecutor," I pointed out, and Melanie laughed.

"True. The girl hasn't lost a case in two years, you know that?"

I paused, shuffling around the papers on my desk to distract myself. "How is Sam these days?"

Melanie seemed to hesitate, picking up her phone to have something to do.

"She stays busy. Works long hours."

"Purposely or because her job demands it?" I responded.

"I'd say a little of both," Melanie replied. "Apparently Freddie...well, never mind. I shouldn't be talking about this with you."

I gave Melanie a Look. "Five years, and nobody's willing to let shit go, huh? Anything that happened between Sam and I was over a long time ago. Ancient history. Like...Rome." Before she could speak, I pointed a finger at her in warning. "And don't you dare make some comment about history repeating itself, Puckett."

"That'd be just my luck," she muttered, and I gave her a perplexed look.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Melanie replied, scooping up her portfolio and then standing up on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. "I'd better clear out before Feingold and Morganstein get in here." She was referring to the studio heads, and I nodded, giving her a brief hug.

"Call me," I called as she headed for the door.

"I will," she replied. "Brad, promise me you'll try to sleep tonight."

I shook my head. "Can't. Date night with Carly."

Melanie just sighed. "You're pushing yourself too hard, Brad. You're going to crash soon."

"I'm fine, Mel."

"At least use the driver, okay? Don't drive like this." With that, she gave me a final wave and headed out, just as Henry Feingold and Arthur Morganstein walked in. I stood there rigidly, unsure of what to do. I had a lot of clout in the movie business, especially with the success of my last film, but nothing compared to these two guys, and given the fact they were investing a lot of money in my latest venture, I was pretty much at their mercy.

"Brad!" Morganstein pumped my hand energetically and gave me a smile that was contagious. "How's our favorite filmmaker?"

"I'm good," I responded. "Why don't you guys have a seat?"

Feingold and Morganstein took their seats in the two burgundy leather seats in front of my desk, and I plopped down in my chair, pulling out my notes.

"So I take it you guys read through the re-write?" I asked nervously, and they both nodded, glancing at each other.

"We did, and we think it's really great, Brad, but there's a few things we wanted to go over with you."

"Okay," I responded.

"First off, the idea to cast an unknown as your lead is well...a little risky," Feingold stated. "From a financial perspective."

I nodded. When it came to facts and figures, Feingold was a genius, turning any project he signed his name on into a blockbuster level success, but I really liked to rely on GOOD talent and excellent storylines to push my projects, not A-level talent. I couldn't stop myself from frowning.

"But it'll save a lot more on pre-production," I argued. "My last project, Smash, saved over a million just by not using SAG actors."

"And it was great, but just think what would've happened if you had bigger names on that project. You could have won an Oscar!"

I narrowly avoided rolling my eyes. Every time someone wanted to downplay my success, they always pulled the Oscar card.

"I'm only twenty five, I'm not in that big of a rush to win a gold statue."

"That gold statue represents your bankability as an artist," Morganstein responded. "Just consider auditioning some A-list actresses for the role of Cecilia. Maybe even a singer."

I gave them a Look. "Carly's not interested in acting, and we agreed a long time ago not to get involved with each other's work. It just seems tacky, banking off my wife's success."

The studio heads exchanged a Look.

"We weren't talking about Carly," Feingold responded. "Although your wife is lovely, and very talented, she's not right for the role anyway."

"Then who?"

"Tori Vega has expressed an interest in the project," Morganstein filled in.

I leaned back in my seat. "Nope."

"Excuse me?"

"If I cast my wife's rival in my film, I'm sleeping on the sofa, and I don't exactly sleep well these days anyway."

"Just audition her, Brad," Feingold replied. "And talk to Carly. It might drum up some much needed publicity, put some fire back in that feud of theirs."

I sighed, staring down at my desk. Carly and Tori didn't exactly hate each other. In fact, if the media hadn't been pitting them against each other for the last five years, they'd probably be friends. They both played the mortal enemy card beautifully in public. The way all of us behaved in the public eye was nothing like the people we really were. Carly wasn't that innocent, Tori definitely wasn't a diva, and I was far from a maniacal tyrant on my sets. But that was the roles we played, and it kept us in the public eye. But I still wasn't sure if I'd be crossing a line with my wife if I cast Tori in my film.

"I'll talk to her about it," I finally said. "But no promises. And if we're talking A-List talent, then you'd better bring in Jade West to audition. I like her. Girl's got spunk."

"We'll get the word out to West's people," Morganstein responded with a cursory nod. "But we're really banking on Tori."

"Fine," I sighed, not willing to talk about the subject. "What else do you want to change?"

"Well, we like the time travel concept, but we think the steampunk concept would look a little...mismatched with an LA backdrop," Feingold put in.

I nodded. I'd actually been thinking that myself.

"So where are we moving production to? Boston? London might work..."

"Actually, we were thinking San Francisco," Feingold responded.

I nearly fell out of my chair.

"San Francisco?" I spat. "No. I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Why not?" Morganstein asked, perplexed.

"It's just...it's a long story, but...no." Yeah, it would not look good to the studio heads for me to just brush it off by saying there were two people in that city I'd been trying to avoid for years. I even dodged one of my own premieres just because I worried I might run into one of them. Then I'd have to explain everything.

'Hey, Freddie, sorry I blew off our friendship. Even though you stood by me through everything, even falling in love with your wife, sorry for blowing you off. You weren't Hollywood enough for me.'

'Yo, Sam! What's up? Yeah, I did promise you I'd always be there for you no matter what. I'd lied. I'm Hollywood. We do that. And Carly's still too busy to talk to you too. Our bad! Let's do lunch!'

Maybe I was being silly, but the idea of moving the production there gave me the wiggins. A press junket or premiere was one thing, but spending four to six months there? It really raised the chances of running into one or both of them, and I just wasn't prepared to deal with that.

Morganstein and Feingold exchanged a Look, The Look, and I knew I was in for it. If I didn't concede, they could very well pull the plug on the entire thing.

"We highly suggest you consider it, Brad. As you know, there's several other projects we could invest our money in..."

"I know..."

"And a budget of the level you're working with could change your career forever," Morganstein went on. "You wouldn't be the next Tarantino anymore. Tarantino would be the next YOU."

Well, no doubt the pull of that was pretty alluring, and I'd have to be an idiot to let them walk away with millions of dollars dedicated to my biggest undertaking yet, but at the same time, I was an idiot for just giving up on two of the most important people in my life, just because I was too busy, and I wasn't ready to deal with that yet. I leaned forward, my chin in my hand.

"Fine," I responded. "I'll consider it."

"We want some test shots done that we can blend in with some CGI, just to see how it looks," Feingold stated. "This week would be good."

I nodded. Carly would be in DC for three days this week, doing some sort of celebrity benefit for the latest international disaster, so it's not like I'd be abandoning her to run around in San Francisco playing with my camera. And what choice did I have? Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Fine," I replied. "Test shots. But not with Tori. We'll use a stand in until I can clear this with my wife."

"Sounds good," Feingold replied. "We'll be in touch." Another hand shake from the two of them, and they excused themselves, leaving me alone in my office. I rose to my feet, stretching and letting out a groan.

San Francisco. Just great. Even if I didn't run into Sam or Freddie, the whole city would just serve as a reminder that I, Mr. Big Shot Hollywood, had every chance to keep the two of them in my life, and I didn't. Because I was too busy. And let's be honest, other than Carly, I owed my success to them the most, just because they kept my head on straight during the most turbulent years in my life. I'd done a real good job thanking them for it.

The pill Melanie had given me wasn't doing its job. I had nothing left in me, no energy to burn off, no fires to stoke. I'd pushed myself a little too hard this week. I all but crawled to my couch as I stretched out on it, vacantly staring at the ceiling. I barely noticed my door swing open.

"Sorry, I forgot my other portfolio," Melanie said breathlessly as she flew in. She observed me laid on my couch and one eyebrow went up.

"Pill failed?"

"Miserably," I groaned. "I got nothing left in me."

She gave me a sympathetic look. "You want me to call Carly and have her come get you."

"She's at a photoshoot," I said with a yawn. "I'm not sure when she'll be done."

"Heather?"

"Class."

"Fine, then just get some rest and then in a few hours we'll get you back to your casa," Mel responded.

"If I fall asleep, I won't wake back up for half a day."

Melanie shook her head. "Nah, I'll stay with you. I've got some sketching to do."

"Promise you'll wake me up?"

"I'll do my best," she stated. "Rest, Harrison."

I nodded, my eyelids becoming impossibly heavy. "Mel?"

"Yeah?"

"They're moving the production."

"To where?"

"San Francisco," I responded.

"Shit," Melanie swore. "Well, it's a big city...I'm sure you can avoid them if you want."

I shook my head. "It's not that I want to avoid them, but...it's just best if I do."

"Old habits die hard," Melanie agreed.

"Sam's not my habit."

"They both were."

"They were my best friends," I corrected her. "And I did a really shitty job of showing it." With that, I managed a final yawn, and then finally fell asleep, for the first time in over three days.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The reviews have been great so far, thanks guys! :D I'll try to get another update posted soon...and I'm really enjoying your guesses as to what's going to happen. Honestly, I have some outlines, but your guesses are as good as mine! I'm just going to let this story go where it wants to, so enjoy!**

**Chapter Two**

~*Freddie*~

"Come on, you son of a bitch," I grunted, glaring at the currently malfunctioning lines of code splashed across my computer screen. Things were just not clicking for me today at all. Part of it just came along with the job – codes didn't work sometimes, machines broke, tests failed – but I was usually a lot more patient with these type of things. Today I seemed to have a really short fuse. I was sure it had a lot to do with Sam.

She was so damn stubborn. In the beginning, that was one of the reasons I'd fallen in love with her, but now it bothered me to no end. This wasn't Sam being stubborn about something lame like taking out the garbage, or who got up and dealt with Sadie in the middle of the night when she had nightmares. This was a lot bigger.

I sighed, forcing myself to stop thinking about Sam. Focus on work. I stared down my computer, as if it was some sort of opponent to be tackled. I had to get this finished before the end of the day.

I heard a tapping at the edge of my cubicle.

"Kicking your ass, huh?" a familiar voice asked.

"You have no idea," I groaned as I spun around in my chair to look at my co-worker.

Claudia laughed, walking around into my cubicle and leaning against my desk.

"You know, this kind of shit makes me long for the days of i-frames," she responded, tossing her glossy black hair over her shoulder. "But you do seem a little more on edge than normal. Everything alright?"

"Just Sam...being Sam," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "Shouldn't you be working? Or did you pawn everything off on Charlie again?"

"I pawned everything off on Charlie again," Claudia responded with a laugh.

"Damn, that's what I was going to do." I laughed too.

I'd known Claudia for about three years now, another fellow nerd who'd been scooped up by Cisco when she was young. Claudia was two years younger than me, and was one of my closest friends at work. When I say 'fellow nerd', don't let that fool you. Claudia was quite the good looking girl, about the same height as me, with black hair and almond shaped eyes that were almost black. That was probably the reason I'd never bothered to introduce her to Sam – because Sam wouldn't be too happy about my spending time with a pretty Asian girl who shared all the same interests as me. As far as Sam was concerned, Claud was an annoying fat girl, and it was a lot less hassle on my end to keep it that way.

Lots of guys around the office loved to complain how their wives had let themselves go. Sam was not one of those wives, but if you listened to her talk about herself, you'd think that. Sam still had a killer body (though I rarely saw it these days), same golden blonde hair, and dressed the part of sassy-but-sexy television attorney a la Ally McBeal or Law and Order, but none of this made any difference to her. She constantly complained about the way she looked, how her body had changed after giving birth to our children. Honestly, it kind of turned me off sometimes. What had happened to my feisty, confident sex kitten? Almost overnight she'd turned into a combination of workaholic and tiger mom, which left little space for me. Did this happen to every married couple? Eventually, did the spark just go away?

Claudia hopped up on my desk, crossing one slim leg over the other and leaning toward my monitor screen.

"There's the problem...you left out the ampersand symbol there," she pointed to a spot on the screen, and as soon as I spotted it I made a noise similar to a dying whale.

"I am such an idiot," I grunted.

"No, you just need a break, man," Claudia replied. "Which reminds me...the DC trip coming up...you're coming out with us this time!"

"Sorry Claud, can't do it," I responded as I corrected my error and proceeded to look over the code to see if I'd made any more mistakes.

"Why not?" she cried. "It's the same thing every time! Charlie and Michael and I go out and you just sit in your hotel room like a good little boy."

"That's because I am a good little boy," I shot back, trying my best not to look over at Claudia as she swung one leg back and forth. "I've got no business being in a club, Claudia. I'm a married man."

"Yeah, but not a happily married one," she pointed out, and I gave her a Look.

"Chill, alright?"

"Come on, you just need to cut loose!" she responded. "Besides, I wasn't talking about a club...look what I have!" she pulled a few pieces of paper out of her jacket pocket and waved them in front of my face.

"What are these?" I asked, taking them out of her hand. They were tickets. "Mogadishu Disaster Benefit?"

"Yeah! Huge concert the same weekend we're gonna be there!"

"It's on Saturday night," I observed as I read the ticket date. "I was going to fly back Saturday night."

"No, you're not," she responded, snatching them out of my hand. "Come on, these tickets were NOT cheap, and all the biggest names in music are going to be playing! All these amazing bands under one roof!"

She stood up suddenly, leaning over me to commandeer my keyboard and open the web browser. As soon as my eyes hit her open shirt – and the expanse of bra covered chest it revealed – I backpedaled, pushing back in my chair. Nope nope nope. Lots of guys practiced the 'look but don't touch' motto, but I was not one of them. In my opinion, you put yourself in those kind of situations, it was just too easy to make a mistake – one that couldn't be fixed.

"Look, these are the bands playing..." Claudia pointed to the screen after bringing up the concert's website. "And wasn't this little lady your childhood bestie?"

I read the screen.

Carly freaking Shay.

"No way," I replied. "Childhood bestie and her hubby got it in their heads that were suddenly above everyone they'd grown up with."

"Ooh, so she went major bitch, huh?"

I couldn't help bristle up a little at Claudia using that moniker for my former friend. Even though Carly and I didn't speak anymore, that didn't mean I was okay with people talking about her like that.

"She's not a bitch. Self-centered, maybe. Too important for the little people, definitely. But she's no bitch."

"You could give her a piece of your mind," Claudia offered.

I just scoffed. "Like we'd actually get backstage at a gig like that?"

Now it was Claud's turn to scoff. "You forget yours truly used to be a bonafide Big Time Rush groupie...and not in the obsessive Twitter way either."

"Yes, I'm aware of how many members of the band you banged, Claud. Everyone in the office is aware of it. What's your point?"

"I know how to get backstage at a show. Besides, they're playing again too...they might remember me," she winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Alright!" I said with a laugh. "Enough, okay?"

"Then say you'll go!" She waved the tickets in my face.

"Only if you promise to quit talking about your sexcapades."

Claudia rolled her eyes. "It's the stuff dreams are made of, Benson." She straightened up, adjusting her suit jacket. "Sushi for lunch. Michael and Charlie are already on board. You down?"

"Yep, if you leave me alone long enough to finish this," I grunted, going back to my computer.

"Fine, but you have one hour," she responded, heading out of my cubicle.

I sighed, looking back at my screen. I had a long day ahead of me.

~*Sam*~

My headphones blared in my ears as I tried to sort through the witness statements on my current case, and I let out a sigh. Every move I made, I was coming up empty handed.

The problem was that no one was talking.

I had all the evidence in the world to convict Guiseppe DeCicco for the rape and murder of Adrianne Miller, a twenty two year old cocktail waitress and single mother that had lived here in San Francisco and was trying to make ends meet serving drinks at one of DeCicco's many night time establishments. We had DNA samples out the ass, but nobody could put DeCicco at the scene of the crime.

In most cases, that really wouldn't matter. With the right DNA and other key pieces of evidence, it was easy to put someone behind bars without a witness statement. But most people weren't in charge of an organized crime syndicate, and didn't put the fear of god in people. Most people didn't have millions of dollars and a firm hold on police and attorneys alike.

Maybe I was in over my head this time.

I felt something tug at one of my ear buds, and I jumped a little, clutching a hand to my chest.

"God, Jonathan, you scared the shit out of me," I barked.

My colleague gave me an annoyed look. "Sorry, Benson. Maybe if you weren't poring over disgusting evidence photos and case files you wouldn't have the heebie jeebies."

"Maybe not, but I don't really have a choice, do I?" I leaned back in my chair. "This is going to be a really tough case."

"I think you're insane for even taking it, honestly," he responded. "So your car got the ax-job, huh? Heard some of the paralegals chatting about it downstairs. How bad was it?"

"Someone carved 'quit, bitch' in my door and bashed out my windows," I replied. "He's a bold bastard."

Jonathan made a face. "I'll say. Well, I came up here to force you to eat something."

I nodded. He made a point, I did need to eat. "Will your honey be joining us today?" Jonathan's boyfriend Wes was an investment banker, and these days the two of them were my closest friends. I stayed pretty busy with all the crazy caseloads I took on, and only people with careers as demanding as mine could understand. Jonathan was as good an attorney as I was, got just as many threats, and as for Wes? Well, when you're dealing with people's money, you get a few threats thrown your way every now and then too. The worst wrath Freddie ever got threatened with was a pay cut.

Jonathan nodded at my question. "Yeah. We're doing sushi."

"Oh god," I breathed. "I've been craving it lately. And a sake."

"Not too much sake," Jonathan reminded me. I gave him a Look.

"I know that. I'm on the clock. Besides, Sadie has dance class today, and I still have to go get a rental car. Can't be too liquored up for any of that."

"Isn't she a little young for dance?"

I shrugged. "She's no prima ballerina, that's for sure, but she looks adorable in those little tutus."

"I'll bet," Jonathan laughed. "Well, let's get going. Oh, by the way, one of the girls downstairs wanted me to run this up. New evidence photos. The hi-res one."

I took the folder out of his hands and opened it, immediately wishing I hadn't. I took a deep breath.

"I'll look at these later," I stated, standing up. "Come on. If I don't get some toro I'm going to kill someone."

Jonathan walked out of our building and into the parking garage, getting into his silver Lexus and heading off to Mitsune, an upscale sushi place in the financial district. We came to this place a lot for lunch. The food was amazing and so was the décor.

Wes was already waiting for us, and he stood up with a happy smile on his face as his boyfriend and I walked toward his table. Wes hugged me first, giving me a kiss on the cheek, and then hugged Jonathan, giving him a kiss that was NOT on the cheek. That was one of the many things I loved about San Francisco – people definitely had the right to be themselves.

In the beginning I'd hated living here, shut up in the house all day with Buddy, pregnant, while Freddie worked incredibly long hours. But after I'd had Sadie and could throw myself back into college, everything changed. I was by no means a social butterfly, but that just allowed me to blow through college and law school. Then I'd met Jonathan, Wes, and a few other people. I had my own little circle of people who I cared about and who cared about me. It was definitely a help, especially considering I wasn't even sure how Freddie felt about me these days. We were pretty much just roommates.

We all sat down, and Wes slid a clear glass shooter my way.

"Took the liberty of ordering you that fuji apple sake."

"Thanks." I grabbed the shooter and threw it back. The sake went down easily, warming my throat.

"Jesus, Sam!" Wes laughed. "Rough day?"

I sipped at my water Wes already had waiting for me, nodding. "Post mortem photos."

Wes and Jonathan gave me a sympathetic expression. "That sucks, Sam...they were really bad?"

I nodded, not wanting to go into it. "How's the toro today?"

"Haven't checked," Wes responded. "I was waiting on you guys."

"Well geez, honey, you're just dropping the ball these days, aren't you?" Jonathan teased him, and Wes gave him a silly look.

"So..." Wes moved on, reaching across the table to nudge my shoulder. "Hubs is going out of town for the week...and the little ones are going off to grandma's...that's convenient."

I shook my head. "Gotta love Spring Break. I'm surprised those damned nerds didn't have their conference in Cancun or something."

Jonathan shook his head. "Nah, too obvious."

"It's obvious enough, the way they book their conferences at Spring Break every year."

"Please, Sam, you have nothing to worry about. Like you said, he'll be surrounded by nerds. I don't think he'd cheat on you. The girls all probably look like walruses or something."

I gave Wes a Look. "Very nice. Where's the waitress? Can we order? At least tell me you ordered the edamame already."

"I did," he responded. "Should be here soon."

"Sweet," I replied, standing up. "If you'll excuse me, I've gotta head to the little girl's room. When the waitress comes, order me an order of toro and the salmon." I grabbed my purse to head to the restroom. I was nearly there when something caught my eye, or should I say someone.

"Look, I'm not saying that Javascript is obsolete, but trust me when I tell you that Dart is seriously on its way to replacing it!"

"How do you figure? Javascript has been around for ages, and I'm not really happy about having to learn a whole new programming language."

"Yeah, well maybe I don't want to sift through thousands of lines of code looking for one mistake. Dart's so much simpler to use once you get the hang of it," I overheard my husband say. "I'm telling you, it's all about Dart."

"Hey," I said hesitantly.

Freddie looked up, seeming surprised to see me. "Sam! Hey baby, what are you doing here?" he stood up and put his hands on my waist, brushing his lips across mine. It was the first time he'd kissed me in two days, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was just because we were in public.

"Just having lunch with Wes and Jonathan," I responded, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Well, uh..." He glanced down at his coworkers. "You remember Charlie and Michael."

I nodded. "Nice to see you again, boys."

"Hey, Sam," Michael greeted me. "Heard you're taking on the DeCicco case."

Freddie bristled up, but I ignored him. "Yep. Bastard's going down."

I heard a snort, and my eyes focused on the girl sitting at the table across from my husband. She was stunningly beautiful, a thin asian girl with haunting eyes and full pouting lips, her black hair hanging down like a shiny liquid curtain. My hair looked like a disaster. Still, I tried to be a little intimidating. I had no idea who this woman was, and I didn't like that, my husband being out to lunch with someone I didn't even know.

"And you are?" I asked, giving her a raise of one eyebrow.

She extended one perfectly manicured hand, nails not all chewed up from nerves like mine were.

"Claudia Chang," she responded, shaking my hand. I resisted the urge to break her wrist.

Now both of my eyebrows went up. "Oh, YOU'RE Claudia? The one that calls his phone at ten o'clock at night with your little computer bugs?" I glared at Freddie, who looked like he wanted to disappear. That rat bastard... "You told me she was fat."

"Fat?" Claudia laughed, looking at Freddie.

"We're in a restaurant," Freddie said lowly, looking down, but I ignored him.

"Well, I'm Samantha, Freddie's wife. And the assistant DA. I'm sure you've heard of me. Read about me. All that."

"Your...reputation does precede you." Claudia smiled, the light glinting off her perfectly pearly white teeth. Christ, what was a girl looking like this doing working in computers and not on some runway somewhere? I hated girls like her!

I just nodded, then turned to my husband. "A word?" I asked. Without waiting for him to respond, I grabbed his forearm and forcefully dragged him away from his table.

"What the hell was that about?" he hissed.

"You tell me!" I shot back as we stood by the bar. "THAT'S Claudia? The girl you spend so much time with? The one that all your coworkers jokingly call your work wife? Are you kidding me?!"

"Like you don't have a work husband?" Freddie shot back. I rolled my eyes.

"My work husband is currently being hand-fed sushi by his boyfriend!" I pointed at Jonathan and Wes. "It's not the same thing!" I took a deep breath, looking at the ground for a moment. "Is she going with you on the business trip?"

"Yes," Freddie responded, not batting an eye. "So what?"

"Why did you tell me she was fat?" I asked. "And not...well, THAT!"

He rolled his eyes. "Because I knew you'd be jealous."

"I have no reason to be jealous of that walking CPU," I fired off. "But I have every right to be pissed at you right now!"

"Are you really going to make a scene in a restaurant, Sam? Again?"

I glowered at him. "No. I'll let you get back to your colleagues, and I'll get back to mine."

"Sam..."

"I'll see you at home, Fredward," I replied evenly. I left him standing at the bar and headed back to my table, where Jonathan and Wes were gaping at me.

"What was that about?" Jonathan asked.

"Nothing," I responded, taking one chopstick and stabbing it into a piece of raw fish, lifting it to my mouth and attacking it like a carnivorous animal. Wes and Jonathan's eyebrows went up, and Wes leaned toward his boyfriend.

"Straight people are NUTS, I'm telling you..."

Running into Freddie and his lanky partner in crime really got to me, throwing off the rest of my day. I mostly sat at my desk reading over my case files halfheartedly, ducking out earlier than usual to procure a rental car so I could pick up Buddy and Sadie. Drop Buddy off at karate, cart Sadie off to ballet. Freddie texted saying he would be late, which only served to add to my uneasiness, but the kids were thrilled because it meant Fat Burger for dinner. By the time I got them back to the house, helped Sadie practice writing her alphabet for a little while, checked Buddy's homework (although these days he might as well be reading my case files for me, little genius he was...) and got them both showered, re-dressed, and in bed, I was exhausted. Freddie still wasn't home.

I changed into my bed clothes, a light green satin tank top and matching pair of shorts, pinning my hair up and out of my face. I sighed. I really needed to take a look at the evidence photos now that I finally had some downtime. But I could use a little wine for this. I usually had a glass of red before bed. It helped me sleep better. Of course, a few years ago I had no problem sleeping, because a certain someone usually wore me out every night, but not these days. I laid in bed, propped up against several pillows sipping my wine while I reached for the folder containing the photos.

I bit my lip as I looked over the pictures. Poor girl, she hadn't stood a chance. She was covered in bruises and scrapes. Cause of death was listed as strangulation, but not after she'd been systematically tortured. It was sick. It was disgusting. What could she have possibly done to deserve any of this? What had any of us done to deserve it? I felt an uneasiness creeping up in my gut.

It was too reminiscent, I thought as I flipped to the next photo and observed the burns on her back. Cigarette burns. My stomach went from uneasy to full on nauseous. I let out a gasp as I threw the photos on the ground. My hand covered my mouth as I took deep breath, tried to swallow as I felt a lump in the back of my throat.

It'd been nearly ten years, and I still remembered every little detail of what had happened to me. How bad it had hurt. How terrified I was. How close I came to dying. Maybe that's why I pushed myself so hard. Because I was the lucky one, I owed it to other girls who had gone through the same thing I had.

But this was going to be really hard.

Maybe it was the stress of the day. Of having my car smashed, seeing Freddie with that girl, all the past coming back to me...who knows? But I started to cry. Not full out bawling, but tears slid down my cheeks as I gulped at the slightly bitter red wine.

"How did I know you'd be drinking?" I heard a voice sigh in disappointment. I looked up to find Freddie standing in the doorway.

I glared at him. "Fuck off."

His eyebrows went up and his head went back a little in surprise. "Cutting to the chase tonight?" he quipped. "All over some girl, huh? Typical Sam."

I didn't respond, just continued to sip at my wine, looking out the window.

Freddie got closer, and I could tell after I'd embarrassed him, he was ready for a fight. "You know, I don't understand you, Sam. You get jealous over someone I'm not involved with, would never be involved with, but then you act like you want nothing to do with me. I don't even see the point of..." he trailed off as his eyes fixed on the photos scattered all over the floor. "And do you have to throw shit everywhere? You're not a kid!" He bent down to pick them up. I still didn't respond, just continued to bite my lip, to the point it was hurting. This was just too much for me right now. I didn't want to cry in front of Freddie.

He went to stand up as he gathered the photos but he stopped suddenly, looking closely at one of them. He stared at it for a long moment and then looked down for a second, taking a deep breath and then muttering something under his breath, and then looked up at me. Freddie caught sight of the look on my face, the way the hand that held the wineglass trembled, and try as I might, I couldn't help the next tear that slid down my face.

"Oh, honey," he sighed, laying the photos facedown. "You can't take this case." He took his suit jacket off and laid it on the bed, then sat down next to me, carefully edging toward me. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then put his arm around me, his other hand going to the side of my face to guide my head to his shoulder. I didn't speak, just laid my head against him, inhaling the familiar sent of his cologne. His hand rubbed my shoulder, and I felt my body begin to relax a little. No matter how bad things got, this always seemed to calm me down, even if it was a rarity these days. I missed this. I knew a lot of the problems we had were my fault, but still...it just didn't seem fair.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Freddie said softly. "About Claudia. I don't know why I did. It just seemed simpler."

I shrugged. "It's whatever."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Aren't I always?" I asked, lifting my head to give him a fake smile.

"No," he said. "But you always pretend you are."

He took the wineglass out of my hand, setting it on the nightstand and then loosened his tie. "I really don't want you taking this case."

I rolled my eyes, preparing to do battle. "Freddie, I told you, we're not in danger, and the kids aren't either..."

He cut me off. "This isn't about the kids, Sam. This is about you. You get so...intense when these kind of cases pop up. And this one..." He picked up the photos again and briefly looked through them, shaking his head. "Too many parallels to what you went through. I don't like it."

"It was almost ten years ago," I said softly.

"It doesn't matter. If you're up here crying and drinking, then it doesn't matter."

"I can handle it, Freddie."

"Sam, please just let me take care of you for once," he begged, putting his hands on either side of my face to turn it to face him. "You're still my wife. It's my job."

"And who's going to make him pay for what he did?" I asked softly.

"Someone who's not my wife."

"If I don't do it, DeCicco will walk. I guarantee it."

"Jonathan can take it."

"Jonathan's bogged down with the Polenski trial," I responded.

"Then someone else. Not you."

"Freddie, I'm fine," I lied. "I can handle it. I won't get too wrapped up, okay?"

He shook his head. "Look me in the eye and promise me that you're fine, after studying photos of a young blonde, dead, with cigarette burns all over her body and broken ribs. Look me in the eye and promise me you're fine after reading her case file and her background."

I didn't speak, and he shook his head.

"You can't, can you?" he asked. Finally I shook my head, a choked cry slipping out. "Baby...let someone else take it."

"I'll think about it," I finally said. "Okay? I'll think about it."

He nodded, and seemed to hesitate for a second, before leaning closer in, his hands going to my legs and pressing his mouth to mine in a tender kiss. In my complete shock, I kissed him back, but it surprised me, and that's what was so sad about it. I shouldn't have been surprised when Freddie kissed me. I should have been surprised when he DIDN'T kiss me, the way it used to be.

"What are you doing?" I asked softly as he kissed my neck.

"For tonight I'd rather you not think about any of it," he replied, unpinning my hair so it tumbled about my shoulders. "If that's alright with you."

Oh my god, sex?! I couldn't believe it! It had been weeks since the last time... I was just about to ask him what was going on before his mouth closed over my earlobe, then I lost all train of thought. Even though I almost hated him sometimes, his mouth still did things to me...after all these years. My hand went to the back of his head, curling through his hair, while the other trailed over his bicep.

Freddie grabbed my hips suddenly and scooted me further down the bed so I was laying down and then came over me, finding my mouth with his. My arms went around his neck as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up my sides and inching my tank top further up, fingers tracing over my newly exposed skin. He sat up suddenly, yanking his tie over his head, and I sat up to unbutton his shirt, kissing his neck, smirking against his flesh as he let out a groan.

"Sam..." he hissed. I continued to focus on the buttons on his shirt, my fingers undoing them one by one, finally getting the last one undone. He shook the shirt from his shoulders and then pulled my camisole off me, pressing his mouth against my throat and kissing lower and lower, nipping at my collarbone, sliding his tongue over my hot skin. I let out a happy moan of pleasure as his mouth covered my breast, curling my fingers through his hair.

"Get these off," I growled, hastily unbuckling his belt. He smirked, sitting up to unbutton and unzip his pants.

"Yes ma'am," he responded, sliding them over his hips.

No more foreplay. I wanted him inside me right then. He seemed to sense it, yanking my shorts off as he positioned himself between my legs. My hand wrapped around him as I dug my teeth into the side of his neck, and he growled, grinding his hips into me.

"Damn, baby, it's been too long," Freddie groaned, and I nodded.

"You have no idea..."

"We need to start penciling this shit into our calendars," he gruffed, and then without warning slid inside me, making me gasp in surprise and pleasure. My legs went around his waist as he began a slow grind against me, one hand tilting my chin up to kiss me again.

Oh, god...this felt so good. He was right, it HAD been too long, but the idea of 'scheduling' time to be intimate with my husband...it was weird. We shouldn't have to pencil anything in...it should've came natural, the way it used to be. Back when we couldn't keep our hands off each other. In those days we looked for every second, any excuse to be alone, and sometimes we couldn't even wait to be alone, rushing off into the bathroom or even the elevator of the loft we shared with Brad and Carly. Those people were strangers now, and I didn't mean Brad and Carly, although they were strangers too. Sam and Freddie, Seddie, those people...I barely knew them. We were totally different people now, and sometimes being together like this was just a brutal reminder of how much things had changed.

Still, it felt good, and I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Sam," Freddie gasped. "Oh god, baby...you feel so good...I don't know how much longer..."

"I'm so close..." I moaned. "Don't stop...don't stop..."

Maybe it was because it had been too long. Maybe he was out of practice and lacked the self control. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. Either way, he couldn't hold out any longer, and with a final shuddering gasp, reached his peak...and left me hanging.

"Shit..." he grunted, collapsing on top of me. "Damn it."

"It's okay," I said softly.

He reached down between us to rub at me. "No, it's not...let me..."

I pushed his hand away. "It's fine."

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes a mixture of unpleasant surprise and annoyance. Then he rolled off me.

"Okay," he said flatly.

I pulled my clothes on, and the silence between us was awkward. He laid there for a moment, not speaking, and then stood up.

"I guess I'm going to take a shower," Freddie said, then turned around to look at me. "It'd probably be presumptuous to ask you to come along."

"I mean, do you think you have another round in you?" I shot back, immediately regretting the words the instant they left my mouth. He just shook his head.

"Nice, Sam," he said with a glare, and then turned to head off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. I sighed, resting my head on my knees.

Maybe I should've let it drag on a little longer, let him rile me up a little more. Or maybe I was just too stressed out to really enjoy it. I couldn't be sure. One thing was for sure, it wasn't the first time it had happened, and I got really tired of blaming myself all the time. I got tired of blaming him too. I just wanted things to be the way they were before.

I reached across the bed for my wine and took another sip, trying to collect my thoughts, when my phone beeped at me. Picking it up, I saw it was a text from Melanie.

Mel: So I'm not sure if I should tell you this but Brad's new film is shooting in San Fran. Just thought I'd warn you.

My eyes widened.

Of all the things to add to my stress, Brad fucking Harrison was going to be waltzing around in my city. San Francisco was huge, so the odds of running into him were slim, but at the same time, they weren't. I did not need this right now. I didn't need to think about him.

Don't think I was in love with him or anything stupid like that. But at one point, he was closer to me than anyone. Brad had a way of getting inside my head like no one else, calling out my bullshit and understanding why I was the way I was. Even though Freddie had lost his father at a young age, he'd still had a somewhat idyllic childhood, no crazy mental hang ups. Brad and I were different. We'd been knocked around a lot, and it had bonded us together. He understood me, in a way Freddie never could. He'd been my partner in crime.

Then that damned kiss changed everything between us. I hadn't forgotten it, and I hadn't forgiven him for it either. It had made me question things. Him, me, my marriage. I didn't like it, and I didn't know if I was comfortable with him being back in my life.

But it wasn't like Mr. Hollywood had any time for me anyway. He and Carly had pretty much forgotten all about me and Freddie the second their faces got splashed across magazines. Forgotten our names once fans had started to remember theirs. I was angry about that too.

And now the bastard was going to be walking around my backyard, my stomping ground, my home city. This simply wouldn't do. I really needed to get my mind off this.

I set my wine down, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and headed to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes as I did. Opening the door, steam rolled out, and I could hear the shower running. Without speaking, or any lead up, I pulled the glass door open, and Freddie looked at me in surprise. I just stared at him, his hair slicked back, body glistening with water dripping down his muscular torso.

"What?" he asked.

I didn't respond, just got in, shoving him against the shower wall and kissing him hard. He groaned in surprise, his hands gripping my waist as he kissed me back.

"Change your mind?" he asked as I began kissing his neck.

"Yeah," I replied, nipping at his flesh. "Less talk, okay baby?"

"Fine by me," he growled, picking me up.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! :)**

**Chapter 3**

~*Carly*~

I sat on the bed I shared with Brad, watching him sleep. It was seven AM, and he'd been out for a long time. Brad went through these cycles of pushing himself to the brink of insanity (and collapse) and then he'd sleep for hours. Once Brad had even slept for a full twenty four, an entire day. I knew as well as anyone how hard it could be sometimes to get sleep in this business, but I was constantly on Brad's case to chill out and schedule in time for rest. He never seemed to listen though, and I knew with a new project about to go into full effect, he wouldn't be getting any regular rest any time soon.

If I chose to fight about it, we'd literally be fighting all the time, and honestly, who wanted to deal with that? Brad and I had plenty to argue about, but most of it we just let go. The way we looked at it, we didn't get much time together, and we didn't want to spend that time arguing and hating each other. So things like this, Brad's crazy sleeping pattern, we didn't argue about that.

Brad stirred a little in his sleep, letting me know he was reaching the point where he could be woken up. He went into these coma-like states where he didn't move a muscle, just slept wherever and in whatever position he fell. Sometimes it could be a real pain, like that one time after the Grammys, when he'd been up for four days straight. He fell asleep in the limo afterward, and it took three people to move him.

I laid down next to him, throwing a leg over his body and pressing my face to the side of his neck.

"Baby," I whispered, dragging my lips over his skin. "Wake up."

He groaned in his sleep, squirming a little, but didn't roll over. I bent my leg at the knee, letting it drag across his crotch as I trailed a hand over his chest, kissing his neck. "Baby..." I smirked against his skin as I felt him lift a hand to my back, working his way under my shirt and rubbing up and down.

Brad rolled to his side, eyes still closed, and brought both arms around me, pulling me against him and pressing his lips to mine in a sleep good morning kiss. He grabbed my leg, pulling it back over him as he ground his hips into me.

I giggled "You have to at least wake up for that, you know."

He shook his head, still kissing me. "Uh-uh," he grunted. "Take it or leave it, babe."

I laughed, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. "Wake up, you jerk!"

"Fine," he yawned, stretching. "I'm awake, alright?" He grabbed my hips, bringing me down harder against his crotch. "Damn...awake now."

"It's about time," I murmured, leaning down to kiss his neck again. His big hands tangled into my hair, bringing my mouth to his the same time he lifted his hips into me, making me sigh against his lips.

"Sorry about that," he replied softly as his arms went around me and he sat up, leaning against the headboard.

Now we were eye level, and Brad set about unbuttoning the shirt I was wearing, one of Brad's innumerable white button-ups. The newer ones were off-limits for award shows and business meetings, but he left me with free reign of the older ones, the more worn-out albeit more comfortable ones with ink stains and sometimes weird stains like fake blood or dirt from some on-location filming in the California mountains. Kind of like Brad himself. Definitely a little rough around the edges and was only appropriate on rare occasions, but incredibly comfortable and good looking, with some really interesting stories to tell. Of course, for all I knew, Brad just liked me in them because they were easier access for him. He leaned forward to kiss my neck, my collarbone, as his fingers deftly undid each and every button.

"You worry me when you sleep like that," I commented as I raked my nails up and down his back. "You gonna be okay with me in DC for the next few days?"

He kissed me, pulling the shirt off my shoulders and then trailing his mouth over them. "Oh, my sleeping pattern will be fine. The rest of me, not so sure."

"I'm taking care of certain parts right now," I reminded him coyly as I tossed my unbuttoned shirt aside and ground my pelvis down onto his lap.

"And you certainly do a good job," he replied with a little laugh as he laid me on my back, trying to inch his boxers off as he did. "But..."

"I'll call every night, just like always," I filled in, helping him with getting his boxers over his hips.

"Perfect," he replied as he slid my panties down my legs. "So do you think you'll have a spare twenty minutes?" He kissed me passionately, grinding against me in a slow rhythm. I arched my back as I let out a slow, heaving breath, gasping sharply as, with one smooth flick of his hips, I felt him enter me.

"Yes," I managed to get out. "More than that...maybe..." I moaned as he slid in all the way. "Two hours or so...oh god, Brad..."

"Two hours, huh?" Brad pulled away to offer me a smirk and slightly mischievous lift of his eyebrows. "Well aren't I the lucky one?" His lips found my neck again as he made love to me with a slow grinding rhythm. Oh god, he was making it so hard to think.

"I can't be late!"

"You won't be," Brad whispered in my ear. "Doesn't seem like it's gonna take very much to get you there this morning. What do you think, babe?"

My eyes squeezed themselves shut as he offered a particularly deep thrust, and I shook my head.

"Probably not..." I moaned, digging my nails into my husband's back. "Oh, GOD..."

"Just Brad's fine..." he quipped, giving me a teasing smile, and even though I was in the throes of passion and super close to the edge, I couldn't help but laugh. But Brad went back to the task of grinding his hips back and forth, almost rocking, just so until he'd pushed me right over the edge.

"Oh my god!"

"Jackpot!"

If I hadn't been completely gone, head lost up in the clouds somewhere and my body in a state of absolute ecstasy, I would have yelled at him about that one, or just laughed at the outright audacity of it, but I just felt way too good right now. I couldn't even think it felt so good. Finally I felt like I was slowly spiraling back down to earth as I became aware of Brad kissing my neck and shoulder.

"I hate when you say that," I said, still breathing heavily.

"My bad," he murmured in my ear, flicking at it with his tongue. "Need me to make it up to you?"

"You're not still tired?" I asked him teasingly, and he just smirked, kissing me.

"No," he responded. "Are you?"

"No," I said.

"Well then," Brad replied, beginning to grind against me again. "Challenge accepted." With that, he resumed the same tempo and level of intensity that had pushed me over the first time.

"Oh, GOD..."

The two of us didn't get a lot of alone time together, so when we did, we tried to make it count, otherwise you might not get the chance for awhile. The longest we'd ever gone without it was four months, and that was because I was on tour in Asia. When I came back though, major sparks. It was funny how we had sex less frequently than we did before we were married, but I felt like now it was even better. Maybe it was because we rarely got the opportunity and we had all that energy stored up or what, but the sex we had now was amazing. Just too few and far between.

I hated that I had to leave for DC tonight. Brad had just been back in town for three days after auditioning actors in New York, and he'd been bogged down with Los Angeles auditions since he'd been back. I'd been slammed with rehearsals, photo shoots, radio shows, the usual. Today, I had to do a radio show, a rehearsal, and a meeting with my management. Pretty lackluster as far as my days went, except throw in boarding a plane that night.

After we'd both worn each other out, we laid in bed together, the sun streaming out through open blinds and casting alternating bands of light and dark over the sheets. I lay with my head on Brad's chest, tracing the lines of his abdomen with my fingertips as he let one hand run lazily up and down my back. I propped my chin on his chest to look at him.

"So I'll be back in town on Saturday night, around eight-ish. When will you be back?"

"Saturday afternoon. Have to run footage over to my computer graphics guy so we can have it ready for presentation Monday," Brad replied, and threw the arm that wasn't rubbing my back over his face, shielding his eyes. "Do you know how pissed I am about having to move production without even giving input?"

"Where did you say they were moving it again?"

"San Francisco."

I froze, my eyes darting back to Brad's face, and he lifted his arm to look me in the eye.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm thrilled." The arm went back over his eyes.

"Well, guess I get to start the day off feeling like a shitty person," I commented as I laid my cheek against Brad's chest. He started rubbing my back again.

"You're not a shitty person, babydoll. I probably could've picked up some slack too."

I sighed. "You're not the one who forgot to call Sam the day their child was born."

Brad grimaced. "Yeah, you did kinda drop the ball on that one..."

"You remembered and you didn't tell me!"

"Okay, number one, I was in New York that week, and number two, I sent you a text, remember?" Brad poked me in the side and I just grumbled at him.

"Fine, it was my fault," I responded. "But I mean...she could've called too."

"She did call. She called a lot. Both of us. And so did he, but..."

"We were working."

"So were they," Brad responded. "Okay, maybe we are shitty people..."

"Brad!"

"I'm just saying!" He shot back. "And they want me to move production there? It's bad enough I have to go down there just to get the shots, if they decide they love it, and I have to spend six months there...I'll run into them eventually."

"The way you are, and Sam being a lawyer, I'd say yeah. Especially if you punch a photographer again."

"Especially if I punch a photographer again," Brad agreed. "Why do you have to keep living in the past, Carly?"

I gave him a Look. "It was six months ago."

"That is utterly beside the point, Carly," he shot back, and I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Look, let's just not talk about it, okay? I mean, they haven't even officially decided yet, and anyway, like you said, what are the chances of you running into them? I mean, seriously. San Francisco's huge."

"True," Brad responded, his eyes fixed on the slow-moving blades of the ceiling fan. "So...Saturday. You got anything going on Sunday morning?"

I shook my head. "I was gonna do brunch with James and Kendall because James is leaving for New York on Sunday evening, but other than that, no. You're welcome to come."

"No thanks. I'm not the brunch type, babe."

"Liar," I called him out. "You don't hate brunch. You hate brunch with Kendall. Why?" I shook my head. The puzzle of why Brad and Kendall did not like each other had been eating at me for years, and I wasn't any closer to figuring it out than I was five years ago!

"Because he hogs all the crème fraiche," Brad fired back, being deliberately obtuse.

"You're never going to tell me why you hate Kendall, are you?" I asked in disbelief.

"I don't hate Kendall!"

"Liar!"

"I don't!" Brad laughed. "I think he's a douche, but I don't hate him. I just think he's...blahhh."

"Blahhh?" I repeated flatly. "Kendall is a lot of things, but blahhh is not one them."

Brad gave me a weird look, then rolled his eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to insult your friend."

"Brad, don't go there with me," I warned. "Especially not right before I leave. Now...Saturday. You were saying something about Saturday."

Brad stared at me for a second, and I could tell he wanted to say something else about Kendall, but he let it go, letting out a short breath to realign himself.

"Right. Saturday. You and me?"

I smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. "You and me."

~*Sam*~

"Mommy, Buddy's touching me."

"Stop touching your sister," I called over my shoulder as I wrestled with the espresso machine for the umpteenth time. It was a clusterfuck of buttons and knobs and things I didn't know about, or care to know about. I had no idea why Freddie even insisted on buying this crazy thing!

"She touched me first!"

"Stop touching your brother," I responded.

It was all quiet for a moment.

"Mommy, Buddy's not breathing."

"WHAT?" I turned around and glared at the two children sitting at the bar in front of me, their hands over their mouths as they giggled. "That is not funny!"

"Just making sure you're awake, mommy," Buddy explained. "I had to wake you and Daddy up this morning, and if you ask me, it's just not normal. I mean, parents are NOT supposed to be woken up by their kids! And Daddy's still in bed."

"Okay, you guys are on Spring Break, number one," I pointed out to my know-it-all son. "And...Daddy's tired."

"Why is Daddy tired?" Sadie asked as she lifted a dripping spoonful of technicolor cereal pieces to her mouth.

"Um..." I looked back at the espresso machine to keep from blushing...or grinning. After I'd spontaneously hopped into the shower with Freddie, we'd had a pretty intense session...a hot, steamy, slippery session. One that outlasted the hot water heater and had to be moved into the bedroom...for another hour.

"Daddy had a long night," was all I could come up with.

"So did Mommy," a voice spoke up, and I turned around to see Freddie leaning against the wall, still looking half-asleep as he rubbed his stubbly chin.

"Daddy!" Sadie lifted her arms as she sat at her place at the counter, prompting Freddie to lean down and hug her.

"Morning princess," he said, ruffling her blonde ringlets.

"Want some?" Sadie lifted another sopping spoon of sugary morning goodness, offering it to her father, who shook his head.

"No thanks baby," he responded. "Hey Buddy, thanks for the six AM wake up call."

"I forgot we started Spring Break today." Buddy looked apologetic, and Freddie just nudged him, giving him a good-natured smile, then made his way over to me.

"Hey," he said softly, offering me a brief but sweet kiss. The strap on my camisole had started to slide down, and he ran a hand up my arm, sliding the strap back into place and giving me goosebumps. He let one hand rest on my hip, pulling me slightly closer to him.

"Hey," I replied simply, my arms going around his neck. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great," he said with a laugh. "And you? Better than usual?"

"Oh yeah," I responded. "Very...effective technique."

"Maybe we do it again some time?" He asked, staring at me.

"Do what?" a tiny voice asked, and Freddie and I broke eye contact with each other to look at our inquisitive little girl.

"Uhh..." Freddie's eyes darted over to me for help.

"Yoga!" I exclaimed to Sadie, leaning against the counter to look at her and nod emphatically. "It's um...stretching is good. It's very good. It um...it helps you sleep."

"Can I do yoga with you guys?"

"No!" Freddie and I said quickly.

"This is grown up yoga," I told Sadie. "For grown ups. Now...why don't you guys go and get dressed? Mommy and Daddy still have to get ready for work, and Grandma is coming!"

"Yay!" Sadie cried happily, hopping off her barstool and running in the direction of her bedroom with Buddy close behind. Behind me, Freddie pressed a few buttons on the espresso machine and it started to whir. I turned around, glaring at him.

"Why couldn't we have just gotten a regular coffee pot?!" I asked.

"This one's cool though!" Freddie argued. "Besides, espresso's way stronger than coffee." He grabbed two of the white coffee cups out of the cupboard and filled them with espresso, handing me one. "So...adult yoga, huh?"

"I had to improvise," I responded with a shrug.

"I like it," he laughed. "So..."

"Last night was nice," I said, hopping up onto the counter. Freddie sat his cup next to me, occupying the open space in my legs and resting his hands on either side of me.

"Just nice?" he murmured, kissing my neck. "I did try to make up for the false start earlier in the night..."

"I know," I replied. "It was great...especially, all things considered..."

"We'll work on things when I get back from DC, okay?" Freddie asked, locking eyes with me. "I do love you, Sam. I don't living like this."

"I don't either," I responded. "But..."

Freddie sighed, his head hanging down. "But?"

"But I don't want you going on the trip with her."

"Sam..." Freddie grunted. "Look, I've been on two other trips with her. She's my FRIEND. But that's it. I'm married to you, aren't I? Give me some credit, baby!"

"I just worry, okay?" I responded. "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"Well, stop," he scolded me. "I love you, alright? And you're beautiful. Besides, after last night..." he smirked at me. "Why would I even think about being with anyone else?" He kissed me, softly at first, but then more intensely, his hands gripping my hipbones and pressing me against him. My arms went around his neck as we sat there making out on our kitchen counter top. How many years had it been since we'd done that?!

"So what are you going to do by yourself all week?" Freddie asked. I shrugged.

"Crack down on this case, it's killing me."

"Well don't work too hard, alright? Maybe go out with Jonathan and Wes or something one night."

"Yeah, we have plans to do that tonight."

"I meant go out, not your usual weekly martinis."

I groaned. "You know me too well."

Freddie sighed, resting his forehead against mine. "You'd better get ready."

"What time will your mom be coming in?"

"Around noon. They'll hop back on a flight around six, I'm off at seven."

"Busy, busy."

"You sure you'll be okay by yourself?" Freddie asked.

"Yeah," I responded. "It'll be something new and different for me."

"I hate that I'm leaving right when things are getting to be okay again," Freddie said gruffly, and I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"I'll be here."

He nodded. "I know." He kissed me one last time. "Off you go, sweetheart." He moved aside to let me get down, and after throwing back the rest of my coffee, I headed off in the direction of our bathroom, straight for the shower. I disrobed, turning on the showerhead and sighing in relief as the hot, steamy water pummeled my newly sore muscles. They'd definitely gotten a workout last night, more than they'd had in awhile.

I leaned against the shower wall, thinking about everything I had to do that day. I needed some sort of breakthrough on this case. At least one person to talk. I'd have my work cut out for me, but I had the whole week uninterrupted to work on it. Maybe I could even convince my sister to make a day trip up to San Francisco and we could hang out.

When I thought of my sister, I made a face. Thinking about Melanie made me think about who Melanie worked for, and that was Brad. I'd forgotten to tell Freddie that Brad would be making a movie here, but it didn't really matter. I'd probably never run into him, and even if I did, I'd stored up a enough things to say to him, a few things he could pass on to Carly, that a reunion wouldn't be pretty.

~*Brad*~

"I just don't think this place is going to work out," I sighed as I studied the streets of San Francisco from behind the glass windows of some upscale bar I didn't care to remember the name of.

My camera man, Mario, shook his head as he reached for his beer. "We've been here for four hours, Harrison, so you wanna settle down?"

"Besides, this is not the area you want to be filming in," my assistant Kayla chirped as she flipped through my production binder. "We're in the financial district or something."

"Who booked the hotel?" I asked, looking at her.

"Marcie. Why, what's wrong with the hotel?" Kayla asked quickly as she reached for her PearPhone, presumably to book something else.

"Kayla, it's fine. Just not the ideal location, okay? I was hoping for something more picturesque."

"Oh! Well, I could always book something at -" my hand came down on her phone and I gave her a Look.

"Kayla," I said flatly. "Put down the phone."

"Fine!" she said with a laugh. "I was just trying to help!"

"Well, stop!" I responded. "You're off the clock, just drink your fruity thing and chill out."

I'd been in San Francisco for about four hours, and I hated to say it, but I was a lot more in love with the scenery than I'd let on. Feingold and Morganstein had been absolutely right – San Francisco offered a much better background for my upcoming film. It was no contest. As soon as we shot the right footage and had it in front of them, I was as good as living here for half a year.

We'd walked around the city a little bit after coming into town and checking in at the hotel, now were were holed up in a restaurant/bar about a block away from the hotel that looked decent. It was just me, Kayla, and Mario, my standard pre-production team minus a few people. There was no way I'd consider ever embarking on a new project without them.

"You're not drinking tonight?" Mario asked, and I just shrugged.

"I might have a beer in a little while, but eh..." I shrugged again, and that seemed to satisfy him for the moment. I was pretty proud of the fact that I could control my drinking now, had been able to for a few years now. When I was younger and I drank it would turn into some sort of free-for-all, like I was trying to rid the world of its alcohol stores in one night.

It didn't work out.

So I had to take a break from all of it for a little while, and things went well, but avoiding alcohol like the plague wasn't suited very well to my career, so I learned how to control myself. If anything, I was more of a social drinker now.

But I was getting a little tired. I stretched a little, standing up. Time for a re-up.

"Be right back," I told Kayla and Mario.

"Where are you going?" Kayla asked.

"Bathroom," I responded. Kayla gave me this look like she knew what I was up to, and for all intents and purposes, she probably did. The girl didn't miss much, and if I didn't have her around my production company probably would've gone under a few years ago. She just looked at me like she was incredibly disappointed. Still, she never pressed, and I liked that about her. Knowing her boundaries when so few people in Hollywood did.

I strode off to the bathroom, ducking into one of the stalls and pulling a little baggie out of my jacket pocket. Sometimes I amazed myself at how ballsy I could be. A few quick snorts and I didn't wonder anymore. I was wide awake, and we could probably get some decent night shots done! Like every time I did it, it gave me this instant sense of self confidence, like I could take on everything, which I desperately needed. Sometimes I felt like I was still pretending to be something I wasn't. Tucking my wonder powder away in my jacket, I did a quick check in the mirror and headed out of the bathroom to go find my table again.

The table was empty, and I walked towards the bar, leaning over it to get the bartender's attention.

"Excuse me, do you know where my friends went?" I asked him.

"Holy...shit," I heard a voice exclaim to my right. A voice I hadn't heard in years, but it didn't matter, I recognized it instantly. I sighed, glancing down at the bar. Of all the bars in San Francisco...

Bravely, I looked over to find a tiny blonde in jeans, tall black boots, and a white blazer, wearing an expression that was equal parts Absolutely Shocked and Just Plain Pissed.

Beyond that, she looked beautiful, just as beautiful as the last time I'd seen her. Those same big blonde curls, big blue eyes that seemed to pierce through you and pouting pink lips.

"Samantha Benson," I said with a shake of my head as I observed her perched at that bar like she owned it.

"Bradley Harrison," she responded with a nod, but I could tell the way she clenched her fist she was seconds away from letting me have it. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room. Satisfied no one was looking at her, she leaned forward to hiss at me. "The phones in LA stop working, asshole?"

"Sam...I'm sorry!" I said. "Long story but...how are you?"

"I'm fucking fabulous, thank you for asking," she replied as she lifted her glass to her lips, the shimmery lipstick she was wearing clinging to its rim. "And you? How's Mr. Big Shot Hollywood? And Mrs. Big Shot Hollywood, how's she?"

I sighed. "We're good, Sam."

"Of course. I can't even drink a damn Peppy Cola without Carly's face being plastered on it, and I've seen a few of your films."

"Yeah?" I asked, sitting down on a neighboring barstool. "What'd you think?"

She sat her drink down, twisting her body to face me. "Should I punch you in the face, or just sue you for ripping headlines straight out of mine and Freddie's lives?"

"Okay, clearly you didn't care for them..." I muttered, wiping my hands on my jeans. When had my palms suddenly gotten so sweaty? I couldn't be sure if was from all the uppers I was on, or just being subjected to the wrath of Sam. I felt sorry for any poor bastard that went against her in a courtroom.

"I never said that," she responded curtly. "They were good. Really good."

"But?"

"But you're a dick," Sam shot back. I sat there in silence for a moment, not sure what to say.

"So...are you here by yourself?"

"What's next, come here often?" Sam snapped. "I'm meeting friends. This is what we do once a week or so. Get together and have a few martinis, talk about the whys and woes of the legal system."

I nodded. "So you did it, huh? Became a lawyer."

"A damn good lawyer," she corrected me, and I couldn't help but smirk at her feisty demeanor, unchanged after all these years.

"Well, damn good lawyer, your drink's looking awful low. Buy you another one?"

Sam looked down at her glass and then back up at me. "What's the catch?"

"You talk to me."

"Pretty steep price there, Harrison."

"Fine, two drinks."

Sam gave a nod, setting her glass on the bar. "Now you're speaking my language." She motioned for the bartender. "Martini, very dry, onions instead of olives."

"Martini, huh?" my eyebrows went up. "Didn't peg you for the type." I looked at the bartender. "I'll have the same," I told him, and he gave me a nod.

Now it was Sam's turn to lift her eyebrows, and she did so silently.

"Social drinker now," I informed her.

"Not bad," she replied. "So, you're making a movie here? Melanie told me."

"Maybe. Just doing test shots so far," I responded. "Where's Freddie?"

"In DC at some convention. Kids are with Grandma Benson in Seattle."

"DC?" I asked. "That's interesting."

"Why?"

"Carly's in DC."

"What?" Sam responded. "Well this is just too damn weird." She sipped at her new martini, and I lifted mine to my lips uncertainly, gagging at the taste.

"Gin, Sam?!"

"I'm a purist," she responded with a wave of her hand. "Don't be such a prancey, Harrison."

I had to laugh. "It's been a long time since you called me a prancey."

"Don't get used to it," she grumbled. She stared down at the bar for a long moment, not speaking, and then raised her head again to look at me. "I don't wanna be your friend, Brad."

"What?"

"You guys totally did a disappearing act on us! Like we didn't matter to you guys any more. You can't just roll through like nothing happened."

"Okay, Sam, I was a big dick, okay? I'm sorry."

Sam shook her head. "No, you've always been a dick, Brad." I offered up a halfhearted glare, but she didn't even seem to acknowledge it. "The problem is you forget where you came from."

I nodded. "Maybe you're right."

Sam looked like she was about to say something else, but her concentration was broken when two guys suddenly walked up.

"Sorry we're late," one said, kissing her on the cheek. "Jonathan took forever, like he always does, and...hello." he trailed off, looking at me, and then looked back at Sam. "Who is THIS?"

The other guy looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. Great.

"This is Brad Harrison," Sam supplied. "Brad, this is Jonathan Cavaziel and Wesley Berk. Wes is an investment banker and Jonathan works with me, another attorney."

"And what do you do, besides being a professional hottie that is," the first guy, named Wes asked me. I froze, staring at Sam for help. Of course, I got none.

"I uh..uh..I'm a filmmaker," I managed to spit out, not entirely comfortable with the situation.

"Apparently he's shooting a movie here, and stomping on my turf while he's at it," Sam informed her friends, and their eyebrows went up.

"Wow, Sam...bad blood much?" Jonathan asked, and Sam grunted.

"You have no idea."

"You know what? We'll just be over there..." Jonathan rose to his feet, taking Wes with him before Sam or I could say no.

"So...kind of weird running into you here..." I said, searching for something to break the silence.

"Not really. You're in my city, remember?" Sam shot back.

"Okay, look, I'm a shitty person, I'm a shitty friend. I'm sorry," I responded truthfully. She didn't respond, and I continued. "I was dreading running into you, Sam."

"Gee thanks."

"Because I knew it'd be awkward, and I wouldn't know what to say, so I'd just say something stupid. Or do something stupid."

"Well, that is typically you. Or that's what I remember anyway."

"Nothing's changed," I replied. "I'm still the same old Brad...just with a crap ton of money."

"You look the same," Sam commented. "I mean, older, obviously, but...still the same Brad."

"And you," I responded. "Look at you! You look great!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Okay."

"I'm serious! Two kids and still looking like you did in high school? Not too bad, Benson."

She muttered something under her breath, and I leaned forward to get a closer look at her. "Are you BLUSHING?"

"Shut up!" she responded.

"Did I make Samantha Benson blush?" I asked, trying to harass even a slight smile out of her. She tossed one of her little pearl onions from the martini at me, but did manage a small smile. "I do believe that was a genuine smile. You can't hate me forever, Blondie."

"See, that, right there! That's why I hate you, because I can't hate you!" Sam replied, swilling her martini. "I mean, you bailed on me, Brad. Hardcore! It sucked!"

I shrugged. "We did say we needed space."

"I just meant that I didn't...want it to...you know. Turn into anything." She bit her lip and looked at the floor. "But that didn't mean I wanted you to leave!"

"I'm sorry," I said simply.

"Stop apologizing," she chided me. "What's done is done."

I nodded. "Right. So...how've you been? How's the kids?"

Sam smiled. "Well, Buddy is...Freddie Jr. In name and in spirit. He's a little know-it-all and he's on like a fifth grade reading level in first grade. It's insane. And then Sadie...well, she's Sadie." Sam pulled out her phone, scrolling through it. "Here's them."

I took the phone out of her hand, my eyes widening. Buddy had been just a little thing the last time I saw him, just a year old, and now he was in first grade? He looked like a miniature Freddie, same brown hair and big brown eyes. The little girl standing next to him, I'd never even seen her before, ever. But it didn't take a genius to recognize she was a product of Sam and Freddie, with Sam's big blonde curls and Freddie's complexion and darker features.

"Wow," I commented. "They're gorgeous kids." I pulled out my own phone. "Check out Katie and Leah."

Sam leaned over to peer at my phone and shook her head. "Oh my god. Leah's so big! God, she looks so much like Heather did when I first met her."

"Yeah, Lee-lee's gonna be in fourth grade next year. I can't hardly believe it. And then Katie...oh man. Those little girls have me wrapped around their fingers, you know that?"

Sam nodded. "You've obviously taken really good care of them."

"I had help. Carly, an au pair named Svetlana, Heather when she can."

"How is Heather?"

"She's a psychology major," I said, and Sam laughed, covering her mouth.

"You're kidding."

"I wish," I responded. "She's all serious now. The rest of us are all hardcore entertainment business addicts, and she's off trying to get an office job. It's like...it's the only form of rebelling she has left. If she would've grown up with you guys instead, then she'd wanna be in entertainment."

Sam nodded. "Still, not too bad. She turned out okay. The rest of them too."

"I got lucky," I responded with a shrug.

"I'll say," Sam commented, glancing at the watch on my wrist. "What'd that cost, about five thousand dollars?"

"Oh, like that bag didn't cost a buttload?" I shot back, pointing to the massive black leather purse she was toting around.

"You know what? I think you just need to drink that martini and bring it down a notch, Harrison," Sam said with a laugh.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to find Kayla standing there with an expectant look on her face.

"Hey, we stepped outside to have a smoke," she said. "Where'd you go?"

I gestured to Sam. "Talking to an old friend."

"Oh...oh!" Kayla was startled by Sam's face. "Wow, you must be Melanie's sister or something, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Samantha, but everyone calls me Sam. Do you work with my sister or something?"

"Oh, my bad, Kayla Anderson, Sam Benson. Kayla's my assistant. And Sam is an attorney."

"Wow," Kayla's eyebrows went up in appreciation. "So maybe you can tell us where the best location shots are...Brad didn't tell us he knew someone who lives here."

"Yeah, he forgot about me," Sam replied, giving me a Look. Damn, and I thought we were making progress.

Kayla offered a wave of her hand. "Please, I've worked for Brad for years now, and I'm telling you that he would lose his head if it wasn't attached. You can't Brad's...flightiness personally."

Sam shrugged. "It's all about priorities I guess."

Kayla looked uncomfortable. "So...did you want to get those nights shots done, or..."

"Um, yeah. I did." I glanced over at Sam, who was looking down at her phone and sipping her martini. "Unless..."

She looked up at me. "Unless what?"

"Did you wanna hang out...or something?" I stared at her, and she offered up a shrug.

"Some kind of consolation prize?" Sam fired off.

"No, Sam," I sighed. I stood up. "I can tell that you really don't want to talk to me, so...I'll go. But it was good seeing you. Take care of yourself, Blondie." I went to follow Kayla back to our table.

"Wait," Sam called. I turned around.

"Yeah?"

"I don't really have that much going on right now, so...why not?"

"Cool," I said, and then turned to Kayla. "Why don't you guys head back to the hotel, get some rest."

Kayla gave me a Look. "Maybe you should too."

I just waved her off. "I'll be fine. I'll see you two later."

"Okay," Kayla replied. "Let me just pay...company card cool?"

I nodded. "Of course." With that, Kayla scampered off, and I turned back to Sam, sitting down next to her.

"So..."

"So," she responded. "Tell me all about your life in the big city."

"There's not much to tell," I replied. "It's just the same old thing after awhile, you know? I love it, but...it's still a job."

"Fine, then tell me something else."

"Like what?"

Sam shrugged. "Anything."

I nodded. "Okay." I thought for a second, and said the first thing that came to me. "So there's this guy that Carly tours with on a regular basis..."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So I'm arming myself for the barrage of hate I'm about to get, because I'm about to drop a real bomb on you guys. But if you're going to spew hate, do it bravely: leave a username, and make sure your spelling and grammar are correct, lol. The anonymous hate is really sad. I'm all for expressing your opinions as long as it's done respectfully! I promise it will get better for those of you who will walk away from this chapter sorely disappointed. Stay tuned for more drama!**

**Chapter Four**

~*Carly*~

"What IS this thing?" James asked as he picked up a fan brush off the table in my hotel room.

Callum, my makeup artist, snatched it out of his hand and gave him a dirty look.

"It's a fan brush," he responded.

"What's it for?" James pressed. "I mean, it looks kind of useless if you ask me-"

"James?" I interrupted him as Callum hovered over me, pressing goopy liquid foundation to my face as if he were spackling tile on a home improvement project or something. After spending years with thick makeup plastered across my face every time I was near a camera or an audience, I'd grown tired of it, but it was part and parcel of the job. It was funny, before I entered this business I didn't let a day go by without my wearing a full face of makeup; now I relished the chance to be bared-faced and sweatpant-clad.

James picked up another brush as he looked up at me. "Yeah?"

"As much as I love hanging out with you...you're kind of annoying Callum."

James put the brush down. "Sorry," he responded, flopping onto my giant hotel bed, practically disappearing in a pile of down comforters and thick pillows. "I'm bored."

"Where's the boys?"

"Carlos is doing a radio call-in and Logan had a wardrobe malfunction."

I made a face. "Wardrobe malfunction?"

"Yeah. The crotch of his pants split open. Not a good look for promo."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Your fans would just love it. Where's Kendall?"

James sat up and shrugged. "Gustavo called him in for a conference call."

I turned away to look at James, and as I did, Callum smeared foundation across my mouth and let out an exasperated grunt.

"Carly!" he snipped, grabbing my chin and turning it back to him.

"Sorry," I responded weakly, then focused my attention back on James. "Why is Kendall doing a conference call?"

Unscheduled conference calls in our business were never a good thing. If it came from PR, it meant there was a public crisis that needed to be attended to. If it came from the label heads, there was a good chance you were about to get dropped. It was strange that Kendall of all people had been called in. James was usually the one that happened to...if he wasn't cooking up a scandal with some hotel heiress or lingerie model, it was because of some major faux pas he'd pulled – like his recent stunt with signing that Broadway contract. But Kendall? He kept his nose clean, never did anything without management's approval, and I hadn't seen him date anyone in literally years. What on earth was going on?

James seemed to read my mind, shaking his head. "And I have no clue what he did."

"Is it PR or label?" I asked.

"Both."

"Oh, god," I said. "That's...that's not good, James."

"No kidding. This is worse than that stunt I pulled in Ibiza."

"Ugh, don't remind me. You made all of us look bad that night."

"You didn't have to come after me, Carly!"

"Yeah, okay...and let you get the crap kicked out of you? I don't think so. You were so lucky that casino manager had a thing for brunettes."

James rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"I just have no idea what he could have possibly done..." I was interrupted by a knock at my hotel room door. "Callum, can you see who that is?"

"Sure." Callum put down his makeup sponge to walk to the hotel room door and peer through the peephole. "It's Logan."

"Go away, Logan!" I yelled.

"What the hell did I do?" he yelled back. I just grinned.

"Oh, let him in," I told Callum, and he did, yanking the door open.

"You are a rude little girl, you know that?" Logan told me as he strolled in.

"How's your crotch?" James called, and Logan gave him a dirty look.

"Better than yours."

"Whoa whoa whoa!" James shot back. "Them's fighting words, and totally untrue at that."

"Dude, we can compare right now. Let Carly be the judge."

I wrinkled my nose. "I'm sure my husband would love that."

"Just kidding, Carlotta," Logan sat down on the bed next to James. "Hey, what happened to your mouth?"

Callum rolled his eyes. "Five years and the girl still doesn't know how to keep still." He went back to his task of trying to wipe the foundation from my lips.

"So did you hear Kendall's in the doghouse?" Logan asked James and I. We nodded.

"Any clue why?"

"Nope. But I walked past Gustavo's room, and I could hear both of them yelling at each other. Couldn't make it out, but it sounded pretty bad."

"Do you think they're gonna cut him?" I asked fearfully, and Logan shook his head.

"I don't see why. He's the front man, and Gustavo recruited him first before any of us. And I mean, it's not like he ever does ANYTHING wrong. Compared to rest of us, Kendall's a saint."

"Then what could they possibly be on his case about?" I asked. "The whole thing doesn't make sense!"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Logan tried to reassure me. "So...you ready for this thing tonight?"

I shook my head. "I hate promo parties. I mean, I know it's for a good cause, but you know I get really uncomfortable socializing with fans in this type of atmosphere...especially drunk ones. And Brad's not here, which makes it worse."

"Nah, it's all good. He made me promise to keep an eye on you," Logan responded.

"Brad always asks you to keep an eye on me," I shot back.

"Yeah but this time I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight," Logan stated. "Consider me your personal escort for the evening."

"Escorts?" James had tuned out of the conversation, flipping channels on the television, but tuned in once Logan had said the magic word. Logan gave him a disgusted look.

"Not that kind of escort, dumb ass."

"Just checking man. You know they don't get tested for -"

"Can we change the subject?" I interrupted James. "You know, there's no cameras around, you can drop the dumb but beautiful act for a few minutes."

"It's not an act," Logan quipped, grimacing once James had whacked him in the back of the head.

"What's the last book you read, genius?" James snapped. While James was a little flighty and flaky, he wasn't as dumb as he let people think he was. Sometimes I think he just did it to put less pressure on himself, but it wore thin when he carried the act around everywhere. I wish we didn't have to play these roles all the time. I had to act like a prim and proper princess constantly, and sometimes I just wanted to let my hair down. Act crazy. Make a mistake. Anything. Just be the real me for a change.

I sat in my chair while Callum hovered around my face, applying my makeup just so for tonight. All of the acts playing for the benefit were supposed to be present at this promotional party tonight to raise added money. Not only would I have to socialize with a bunch of drunk strangers, I'd also have to hang out with a few non-strangers I didn't really care for. I wasn't really excited about it, but I was contractually obligated. I planned on sticking close to the boys tonight.

I jumped when I heard an angry sounding knock at the door, and before I could ask Callum to check, Logan rose to his feet and headed for the door, pressing his face to the peephole.

"It's Kendall!" he announced, pulling the door open. Kendall stormed in, looking angrier than I'd ever seen him.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Absolute fucking bullshit," he grunted, pacing across the floor. Logan and James exchanged worried glances while I stared at Kendall uncertainly.

"So...do you wanna talk about it?" I asked.

"Dude, what happened?" James asked. "You didn't get axed, did you?" Kendall shook his head, visibly trying to calm himself.

"So apparently I'm a homosexual," he grunted.

James looked aghast. Logan looked perplexed. Callum looked overjoyed.

"And you didn't tell us because..." James began.

"Because I'm not!" Kendall shouted. "Come on!"

"Okay, I'm really confused," I said. "Can you break it down a little more?"

"Well, since I'm not like these two," Kendall gestured to Logan and James, who looked equal parts confused and insulted. "Apparently there's all these rumors that I'm gay! And management's pissed, the label's pissed, and PR...man, fuck PR. I can't deal with this shit."

"So basically you're not hooking up with enough people," James filled in. "You're not a stud."

"Stud, male slut, call it what you will," Kendall responded. "The point is I'm not fulfilling some male stereotype, and they actually called me in to tell me I need to make an effort to 'date' more." He shook his head. "They gave me a list of interested parties! Like they're my relationship broker or my pimp or something!"

"Well, Kendall, don't take this personally, but I mean, it's been awhile since you've dated anyone..." I started.

"It hasn't been that long!"

"None of us have seen you with a girl in over three years, man!" James responded. "I mean, I can kinda get why they're pissed."

"I haven't met anyone that interests me, alright?"

James and Logan exchanged a Look that was rewarded with a death glare by Kendall, and James opened his mouth to say something, but Kendall pointed a finger at him.

"If you even think about it-"

"You're just going to have to find a substitute," Logan said quickly. "I mean...you know." He glanced over at me and then back at Kendall, who just shook his head.

The boys were being a little cryptic, and tension was high, so I tried to diffuse the situation a little.

"So, subject change...Kendall, you wanna see my dress I'm wearing?"

"Like that'll help anything," James muttered to Logan under his breath.

"Okay, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, why don't you two go check on Carlos? See if he's done with his radio call-in," I told them with a raise of my eyebrows. As much as I loved James and Logan, they really weren't helping.

"Fine..." James grumbled, pulling himself to his feet. He turned to Kendall. "Dude, you gotta let go. There's other fish."

"And I hate fishing," Kendall shot back. Logan shook his head.

"We're not done with this conversation," he told Kendall. "I gotta say that I agree with Gustavo and PR on this. You need to date SOMEONE. If only for appearances."

"I'm not in the mood for this," Kendall grumbled.

"Guys," I chirped at Logan and James, waving them off.

"We're going," Logan responded. After the two had cleared out, I turned to Kendall, grimacing as Callum began applying concealer to my face.

"So?"

"This sucks," Kendall grunted. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Look, don't take this personally, okay? But the guys are right, it is kind of weird that you're not dating anyone. You have to understand why it looks bad to people."

"I get it, alright? It does look strange. But I'm not going to be with someone I'm not interested in, and I'm not going to pretend to date someone for publicity. I'm not going to do that."

"But -"

"Carly," Kendall said. "Can we just not talk about it? Please?"

I nodded. "Okay." I struggled for a subject change. "So...have you thought about what direction you wanna take for my song?"

Kendall nodded. "I actually have one that I think would work, I just don't know how you'd feel about it."

"Is it finished?"

"Halfway. Chords are there, one verse plus the chorus."

I pointed to the corner of the room. "The guitar's right there. Play it for me."

Kendall seemed to hesitate. "I dunno..."

"Come on! Callum doesn't care!"

"Go on with your bad self, Kendall," Callum put in.

Kendall sighed. "Fine," he said, retrieving my guitar and sitting on the edge of the bed, facing me. He began to strum out a simple chord progression that was well within my range, and took a deep breath.

"You're the mess I wish I was in," he sang. "The party where I wish I'd been. A shooting star that came and went. Right or wrong, who cares? Now you're gone. You're the mistake, mistake, mistake I should've made. Now it's too late, too late, too late, you got away. Life's too short to play it safe, you're the mistake, mistake, mistake I should've made."

He looked up at me, waiting for my response.

"I like it," I stated. "I mean, I just...I don't know if the song's right for my image though, you know?"

Kendall shook his head. "You're twenty five. You're married. How long do they expect you to play the good little girl?" He sat my guitar on the bed. "I'm so sick of keeping up these damn acts just so we don't rock the boat."

"As long as my opponent keeps up her sassy bad girl act. I get to be...Sandra Dee. Debbie Gibson. Perfect. There has to be a balance, right?"

"Eventually it's going to wear thin. Obviously we all need to shake up our image," Kendall gruffed.

Kendall had a point. We all tired of the roles we were forced to play, me in my demure dresses singing happy little songs about love, when I had a wealth of experiences in my head to pen darker, deeper material. Do something unexpected. I was even discouraged from being photographed with a drink in my hand by my PR handlers, assuring me that it would tarnish the image they'd worked so hard to maintain. Sometimes I just wanted to act crazy and let go for a change. Maybe I would start tonight.

"Just go out with someone, Kendall!" I shot back. "Anyone! It doesn't matter!"

Kendall shrugged. "I'm just not interested."

I nodded. "Okay. Well, I won't push you. But the song is great...we just need to finish it."

"I'll see what I can come up with," Kendall offered.

"Alright. Me too. Maybe we can get it wrapped up to do studio time next week?"

"I'll do my best," Kendall responded. "I gotta go get dressed for this promo party and keep James out of the mini-bar. See you in an hour?"

"Yep," I replied with a nod. "Cheer up, Kendall. It's not that bad."

He shook his head. "If you say so." With that, he left, shutting the door behind him, and I became aware of Callum clucking his tongue at me.

"What?" I asked.

Callum pursed his lips and shook his head. "You are one blind white girl."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I exclaimed.

"Oh, nothing. Now sit still so I can finish this."

~*Sam*~

"I'm switching to beer."

I shook my head in a 'I'm very disappointed in you' manner to Brad, reaching over to grab his half drank martini and set it in front of me.

"Pansy."

"Amstel Light?" Brad called to the bartender, then turned his attention to me. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm pretty sure if it came to it, I could still outdrink you, Blondie."

I just shrugged. It wasn't exactly a huge accomplishment...I was what? Maybe a hundred fifteen pounds?

It was so strange. Out of all of the people on the planet I could be sitting here having a drink with, Brad Harrison? I thought those days were far from over.

I studied him critically as we sat in silence; as I'm sure he was doing to me. I had to admit, the early twenties had been pretty good to him. He still looked the same...same blue eyes, dark blonde hair, just more...well, more manly, for lack of a better word. He had stubble, and he'd definitely filled out a lot more. The last time I'd seen him, he was lanky, and though he was still thin, I could definitely see a hint of more definition in his arms through the grey button up he wore. Since when did he wear button ups? Brad had always been such a casual dresser, but I guess that was a thing of the past too. While he wasn't dressed ostentatiously, it was obvious to anyone who cared to look close enough that he had money. There was definitely something a little more serious about his manner too. In short, Brad had grown up.

"So..." I said awkwardly.

"So," he responded. "I told you something personal." He took a sip of his beer. "Your turn."

I shrugged. "Like what?"

"How's things with you and Freddie?"

I sighed, swilling my martini. "Complicated."

"That bad, huh?"

"I wouldn't say bad, per say, just...different now. We have different priorities, you know? Work. Kids. It takes a toll on things."

Brad nodded. "No kidding. I can't even tell you the last time I spent more than twenty four hours with Carly. And not because I don't want to. Things are great when we're together, but other stuff always has her attention."

"Yeah, but what about you?" I responded. "I mean, isn't your job just as demanding as hers, Herr Director?"

Brad laughed, shaking his head. "Not by a long shot. I work like a dog for six months, nine maybe, then I get two or three months off and get to bask in the glory of everything. I mean, when I let myself. But Carly? I feel bad for her sometimes. She never gets time off. She can't even go to the store without being stormed by paparazzi. Nobody really gives a shit what I do as long as I put out good movies."

"Even when you punch out photographers?" I countered, sipping my drink. Brad's lips curved into a smile.

"You heard about that?"

"Oh yeah," I replied. "Can't really say I was surprised, but what made you do it?"

Brad shrugged. "Carly can handle the paps. And when I'm with her, I can too. But Katie doesn't like them. We were walking out of one of her ballet recitals when a few popped up, didn't take the hint to back off. So I decked one, broke his camera, the whole nine."

"Wow. So what happened?"

"I was supposed to do community service or whatever, but...you know."

I shook my head. "Paid someone off?"

"Is that bad?"

"In my line of work, it is," I replied, pursing my lips. "It's really not fair how we bust our asses and rich guys like you can just buy your way out of punishment."

"You sound a little jaded," Brad observed, and I shrugged.

"Maybe I am," I shot back. "I'm just really stressed out over a case I'm taking right now."

Brad's brow furrowed. "How come?"

"I'm lead prosecutor against some mafioso that raped and tortured a twenty two year old girl. Blonde like me. Petite like me. Broken ribs, concussion, tortured. Official cause of death was bleeding to death, but not until she'd been burned and beaten."

Brad stared at me for a moment, like he didn't know what to say, but he gave me a sympathetic look.

"Wow," he said finally. "Sam...never mind." He shook his head.

"No, what?"

"Why would you take a case like that? I mean, I know why, but...can you...are you alright?"

I shrugged. "Some days it's worse than others, but...I don't see it being any different from that suicide piece you threw together a few years back."

"Touche," Brad replied. "Ouch, but touche."

"Sorry," I replied truthfully.

"And what does Freddie think about that?"

"He wants me to recuse myself. Demands it really. I mean, when he's not...forget it."

"No, tell me," Brad responded, putting his hand on my arm. I glanced up at him and as our eyes met, I pulled away.

Okay, what the HELL was THAT? Goosebumps? Nope. No no no. Pull back, Sam! Pull back!

"I don't know if I should talk about this with you," I said softly.

"I told you what I thought about Carly and Kendall Knight," Brad fired back.

Ugh, he had a point. I guess I owed it to him to be honest too after he'd confided in me, but I was honestly a little sidetracked by the sudden shot of electricity I'd felt go up my arm the second he touched me. Maybe it was just the booze.

"Fine," I replied. "So Freddie's been friends with this one girl at work for a few years. Good friends, I mean. I've overheard some of his other co-workers calling her his work wife."

Brad's eyebrows went up. "Well that's not good."

"She calls late at night to ask him questions about work, that kind of thing. But I'd never met her up until a few days ago."

"And?"

I took a large gulp of my martini, slamming it onto the bar. "Absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh," Brad said flatly. "Well, I mean, come on. Like she's prettier than you? I doubt it."

We were both quiet after that, and Brad cleared his throat.

"But I know what you mean. The fact that Carly spends so much time with..."

"...the boyband version of you?" I filled in, and he gave me a dirty look.

"I'm way hotter than him," he scoffed. "But...yeah. Sucks. But she hasn't done anything that I'm aware of, so what can I do? Forbid her to see him? Bad idea, and contractually impossible."

"And I can't do shit about Freddie working with her," I grumbled in agreement. "But what really threw me off was him telling me she wasn't attractive."

"That is kind of a red flag," Brad admitted.

"BRAD!"

"Sorry!" he exclaimed. He looked at his beer and pushed it aside. "It's the beer, Sam. I'm done."

"You sure?"

"Yep, I don't need another," he replied, then stood up suddenly. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"The uh...the beer is going right through me," he replied. "Be right back, Blondie. Order another martini if you want, it's on me."

"What if I want food?" I shot back, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Some things never change. Get whatever you want." With that, he headed off to the bedroom, leaving me alone at the bar. I glanced around, trying to spot Wes and Jonathan, and once I had, waved them over.

"So..." Wes said as he ambled over. "Pretty hot piece there, that one is."

I shrugged. "If you say so."

"Oh, come on!" he nudged me. "You have to admit that he's a hottie. I mean, those cheekbones..."

"Ahem," Jonathan raised an eyebrow in warning at his boyfriend, but in the fog of vodka tonics Wes was in, he didn't seem to notice or care.

"Okay, fine. Brad is very attractive," I sighed. "The last five years have done him pretty good."

"Better than your husband?"

"WESLEY!" I barked, and he just winked at me. I shook my head. "You just have a thing for the taller skinny ones." I motioned towards Jonathan in demonstration, who was well over six feet tall with dark brown hair and green eyes. Jonathan and Wes were both really good-looking guys, but in my experience, the gay ones usually were. It was a good thing I was married, because living in San Francisco and being a single woman could be downright confusing.

"So, you two are just friends, huh?" Jonathan asked as he sat down next to me. I gave him a Look.

"Uh, yeah. We're both married."

"That doesn't mean anything," Wes replied.

"His wife is Carly Shay," I informed them.

"Whoa!" Jonathan said, his eyebrows going up. "Well, never mind then. Not even you could compete with a pop star."

"Don't rub it in," I responded grumpily. I'd spent most of my former years being in Carly's shadow, and now that we weren't friends any more, I was happy to forget it.

"I dunno, honey, he wasn't looking at her like he was married, pop star or not."

"Wes," I growled at him. "Enough."

"Oh come on! You guys are just friends? Platonic only?"

"I am not having this conversation with you two gossip queens," I responded as I sipped my martini. Wes grabbed my arm and shook it.

"Okay, now I KNOW you're not telling us everything. Spill."

"Brad and I used to be close," I responded. "Really, really close. Maybe too close."

"And?"

"We basically moved to different cities to avoid making a major mistake," I replied. "Oh god, why did I even agree to have drinks with him? This is not good."

"Oh pfft. Like hubs really pays that much attention to you anyway...OW!" Wes rubbed his sore arm where Jonathan had pinched him and glared at him.

"Don't say things like that to her," Jonathan warned, and then gave me a sympathetic look. "He's just drunk, Sam. He doesn't know what he's saying."

I sighed. "I should probably call him. Freddie, I mean."

Jonathan waved me on, as if to say 'go ahead', and I grabbed my phone to dial my husband.

It rang a few times before he finally picked up. It sounded like he was somewhere with a lot of people, tons of noise in the background, music too. I narrowed my eyes. What was my husband up to now?

"Hey baby!" he yelled into the phone. "One second, let me go outside."

"Where are you?" I asked. It began to get gradually quieter on his end until I could hear what sounded like traffic.

"Sorry," he responded. "How's it going out there?"

"Where are you?" I repeated. He was quiet for a moment.

"Don't be mad, okay?" he replied. "Michael and some of the other guys dragged me out. I'm at some nightclub."

"Oh," I said flatly.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"Are you with Claudia too?" I asked, ignoring his question. I heard Freddie sigh.

"Yes, Sam, she's here, around somewhere. But it's not a big deal, okay?"

"If you say so," I grunted.

"What are you up to?" he asked. "Having drinks with Wes and Jonathan?"

I don't know why I did it, maybe it was the alcohol, but a sudden streak of bravery and defiance coursed through me.

"Yep. And I ran into Brad."

Freddie was silent.

"Hello?"

"Brad Harrison?" Freddie responded stoically. He sounded so calm, but I knew him better than that. I knew he'd be seething. I was starting to regret opening my mouth at all.

"Yep. Apparently he's shooting a movie here."

"And you're with him, right now?" he replied. Another pause. "I think I should come home."

"Why bother?" I replied. "I mean, you're out clubbing with Claudia, right?"

"I don't have history with her like you do that cocky son of a bitch."

"Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" I responded. "Don't you worry about me, baby. I'll be just fine. You enjoy yourself."

"You know what? I think I will," Freddie replied. "And I'll tell Carly you said hi. Maybe I can get her to give you an autograph or something."

Ugh, score one for Freddie, he'd hit me right where it hurt. That rat bastard. Two can play this game.

"And I'll be sure to tell Brad hi for you," I replied. "You know, he's filled out a lot. You'd be impressed."

"Pretty sure I could still kick his ass," Freddie responded. "I'll see you in two days, Sam." I heard a click on his end, and the conversation was over. He hadn't given me a chance to respond. I was absolutely fuming.

"Are you okay?" Jonathan asked me as I slammed my phone on the table. I heard a cracking noise and let out a sigh. Great. Just great.

"No," I replied. "And now my damn phone's busted."

"That didn't sound like it went very well."

"He's with Claudia," I replied, putting a mocking emphasis on her name. "And he didn't sound too happy when I mentioned I was with Brad."

Wes lifted his eyebrows. "So you DO have history."

"Who has history?" I heard Brad ask as he walked back over to the bar, sitting down next to me. "You okay, Blondie?"

"Well, Freddie knows you're here now."

Brad gave me a Look. "You trying to get me killed?"

I just waved him off. "I think you could take him." Without waiting for Brad to respond, I changed the subject. "I'm bored now."

Brad could tell I was out of sorts, and then stood up, taking his credit card out of his wallet and laying it on the bar. "Then let's go do something fun," he responded.

"Fine," I replied, then tossed a glance at Jonathan and Wes. "See you guys later?"

Jonathan grabbed a hold of my arm and pulled me toward him. "Sam, do you think that's a good idea?" he muttered, looking over at Brad and then back at me. "You're drunk and pissed off at your husband."

"I'm fine, Jonathan. Okay? I'll be fine."

He sighed. "Alright, just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"You know me."

He nodded. "Like I said, don't do anything stupid."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, grabbing my bag, and then turned to Brad. "Let's get out of here."

"You lead, I follow," Brad responded, picking up his card after the bartender had ran it. With that, we headed out.

~*Freddie*~

I stretched as bright sunlight streamed down on my face, letting out a groan. My head was pounding, and I felt sick.

Was this a hangover? I was under the impression I couldn't drink that much without sending myself into a diabetic coma, and besides that, I'd only had one beer last night. I think. I struggled to remember the previous night's events.

I sat up in the hotel room bed, trying to gain perspective on my surroundings, and the previous night, becoming even more worried when I realized it was NOT my hotel room I was in. Where the hell was I? What had happened? My brow furrowed as I tried to recap the events of last night.

I'd been cajoled into going out by Claudia and the others, I'd remembered that. After a day of boring meetings, my coworkers were ready to let off some steam at this huge, upscale nightclub in DC, and there'd been a promotional thing going on for that disaster relief thing. Claudia had been overjoyed because there were celebrities everywhere. I would have just preferred to stay in my hotel room. I'd only gone with everyone just to shut them up.

I remembered the phone conversation with Sam. Bits of it. I remember being angry with her, but I couldn't remember why. What had happened?

Then I looked to my left, and my heart nearly stopped.

There was a woman in my bed. A woman who was not my wife. My stomach dropped. I felt sick.

What had I done, and what the hell had gotten me to that state to do it? I couldn't remember a thing.

The girl in question was sound asleep, face down with her dark hair covering her face. I felt even sicker. That black hair...it could only be one person.

Sam's worst fear had come true. What was I going to do? I'd just made the biggest mistake of my entire life, and I couldn't even remember doing it! What was wrong with me?

I prepared myself for a world of turmoil as I reached out and shook the sleeping girl's shoulder.

"Claudia, wake the hell up!" I shook her harder. "What the fuck happened?!"

Then she turned over, her eyes barely cracked open, and let out a startled shriek, sitting up.

"Oh my fucking god," I exclaimed. "You are not Claudia."

She stared at me, her big brown eyes wide open and frozen in fear, and then finally opened her mouth to speak, choosing her words carefully.

"Nice to see you again, Freddie."

I shook my head, my face in my hands. "I can't say the same, Carly."

My god.

What had we done?


End file.
